“We mustn’t count our chickens too soon, Mr. Palethorpe,” Will laughed; “but nevertheless I do think that the prospects are favourable. Still, I must wait the result of the search that my lawyer has been carrying on.”
“Well, you know my house is your home as long as you like to use it.”
“Thank you, sir! but I don’t like to intrude upon your kindness too much, and I think that I will take a lodging somewhere in the West End, so that I may be within easy reach of you here.”
“Well, it must be as you like, lad. In some respects, perhaps, it will be best so. I may remind you, my boy, that it is not always wise for two young people to be constantly in each other’s society.” And he laughed.
Will made no answer; he had decided to defer putting the question until his claim was settled one way or the other.
In a few days he again called upon his lawyer.
“I have found out enough,” the latter said, “to be certain that your father started from London with his violin and you, a child of three. I have considerable hopes that we shall, ere long, get a clue to the place where he lived while in London. The runner has met a woman who remembers distinctly such a man and a sick wife and child lodging in the house of a friend of hers. The friend has moved away and she has lost sight [pg 374]of her, but she knows some people with whom the woman was intimate, and through them we hope to find out where she lives.”
“That is good news indeed,” Will said. “I had hardly hoped that you would be so successful.”
“It is a great piece of luck,” the lawyer said. “I have written to my other agents to come home. It will be quite sufficient to prove that he journeyed as a wandering musician for at least fifty miles from London. Of course if further evidence is necessary they can resume their search.”
“I have found a clue too, sir,” Will said; and he then related the discovery of the Amati, the possession of which showed that the minstrel must at one time have been in wealthy circumstances.