Mr Trevor stated to him the pertinacity of our hero, and the impossibility of saving him from condemnation, remarking, at the same time, that there was a mystery which he could not fathom.
McShane took upon himself to explain that mystery, having, as we have before observed, already been sufficiently clear-sighted to fathom it; and referred to O’Donahue to corroborate his opinion of the elder Rushbrook’s character.
“And this father of his is totally lost sight of; you say?” observed Mr Trevor.
“Altogether: I have never been able to trace him,” replied McShane.
“I was observing to his sister—” said Mr Trevor.
“He has no sister,” interrupted McShane.
“Still there is a young woman—and a very sweet young woman, too—who came to me in London, to engage me for his defence, who represented herself as his sister.”
“That is strange,” rejoined McShane, musing.
“But, however,” continued Mr Trevor, “as I was about to say, I was observing to this young woman how strange it was, that the first time I was legally employed for the name of Rushbrook, it should be a case which, in the opinion of the world, should produce the highest gratification, and that in the second in one which has ended in misery.”
“How do you mean?” inquired McShane.