"Will be produced at the proper time," said Quinlevin shrewdly.
De Vautrin took the paper and read it carefully.
"And where is Mrs. Boyle at the present moment?" he asked. "Dead also?"
"Three weeks ago," said Quinlevin calmly. "It's most unfortunate—but her signature can be verified."
"H—m. And Father Reilly also. Of course," said the Duc with a quick glance toward his bedroom door. "And there are other papers?"
"Yes," said Quinlevin. "Letters from you—accompanying yer checks—which guarantee yer verbal agreement in Paris. The will of Patrick Callonby and a few other trifles which are important to ye."
"And you think your case is complete?"
"Oh, yes, quite. An Irish court won't hesitate very long just at this time in carrying out the provisions of this will."
Monsieur de Vautrin smiled. "And what do you wish me to do?" he asked quietly.
"To perform merely an act of restitution, an act of justice to yer own. Ye know the terms of the will. In the event of the mother dying, her fortune was to revert unconditionally to the child. But she's to be considerate of yer age and the relation that exists between ye, which however strange it may seem to ye both at this time, is that of father and only daughter. Ye've both formed the habits of yer lives—yerself living bachelor-fashion in Paris and London. Yer daughter is disposed to be generous and does not wish to interfere with yer plans for the future. She will, if you please, still keep the matter secret, and go on living with me—yerself to continue in the comfortable life of yer bachelorhood."