Saul Harrington uttered a gasp, as he seemed to make a tremendous effort to master his emotion.
“Yes, yes, of course,” he cried, “you surprise me terribly. Then—then—if he is an impostor the property would naturally fall to me.”
“No,” said the lawyer, as Saul sat back in his chair, with his teeth set and a peculiarly rigid aspect in his face, “the property only comes to you in the event of George Harrington’s death without issue.”
“Yes,” said Saul, in a hoarse whisper.
“And we do not know that George Harrington dead.”
“No, no; of course not,” said Saul hastily. “I begin to see now why you summoned me back. But—impostor—my cousin—the man I left here, accepted by you all?”
“Yourself included, Mr Saul,” said the lawyer gravely.
“Yes, of course—of course—his proofs of identity—of course.”
“They were very strong, Mr Saul, and upon the strength of them he has obtained from the estate ten thousand pounds in hard cash, and he has disappeared.”
“But it is impossible! An impostor?” said Saul hoarsely. “No, no, no; you do not think so.”