“Of course he believes it! He always believes in his own inventions. I’ll swear therein lies his success. Lord, it’s a wonderful old gentleman!”
My lady brushed her hand lightly across the table’s polished surface. She looked curiously at her young friends. “But you — you do not believe it?”
“Hardly, ma’am.” Robin shrugged. “Do you?”
“Me, I know nothing. Would he embark on it, do you think, if there were not some truth behind?”
“Ma’am, you’ve heard him. He believes himself omnipotent.”
“There’s the motto.” Prudence spoke reflectively.
“I don’t set great store by that. He may have had this in mind many a long day.”
“How?” She turned her head.
“We don’t know when he came by these documents he holds,” Robin pointed out. “As I see it he may have met the real Tremaine any time these forty years. When did Tremaine die? Or if he lives yet when had the old gentleman those papers from him? I believe this may have been deep laid.”
“Ah, so do not I!” Prudence came back into the room. “His genius lies in grasping opportunity at a moment’s notice. I’ll swear this was not in his mind when he swept us into the Rebellion.”