Chapter Fifteen.
Wife to a Convict.
Sir Mark awoke the next morning thoroughly convinced that he had been the victim of a scoundrel, but he kept his word, and did everything possible in the way of providing able legal assistance for his son-in-law. He had taken Myra and her cousin at once to a retired seaside place within easy reach of town, and made James Dale’s case the sole business of his life.
It was a two days’ business, that trial, owing to the efforts made by the counsel for the defence, who fought their client’s cause gallantly. But it was a losing game from beginning to end; the proofs were utterly crushing. James Dale had obtained a large income from the forgeries for years, and his companion in the iniquity had purchased property extensively. The West Indian estates were certainly in existence, and belonged to a family named Barron, but in the prisoner’s case the name was assumed, and in his real patronymic he, with his confederate, was sentenced to seven years’ penal servitude.
“Deserved it, every hour,” said Sir Mark, with a sigh of relief, as he drove away from the court with Guest. “Now for a few months of quiet abroad, and then I shall have to see the lawyers again.”
Guest looked at him inquiringly.
“Eh? What do I mean? Well, I don’t understand much about such matters, but surely under the circumstances the laws of England will not keep my child tied to such a rascal as that.”
Guest was about to speak, but the old man interrupted him.
“Fancy, my lad, after an apprenticeship of seven years to a convict’s life that fellow knocking at my door, and Andrews coming up to say that he had called for his wife.”