“Thank you, sir,” bowed Mr Brent. “And these?”
My lord took three other such slips. One he handed back at once. “My brother. Pray take it away.” He frowned over the second and shook his head. “I have not the smallest notion,” he said calmly. “I doubt whether I have ever seen it before.” He turned to the third, and spent some time over it. “I am inclined to think that this must be my Aunt Susanna,” he said.
“Inclined, sir?”
“Inclined,” nodded my lord. “I never received a letter from her in my life that I can remember. But I perceive the word Toto. My respected aunt, when I knew her — and I do trust she’s dead? — had a small dog of that name. A yapping, petted little brute of a spaniel. Mr Fontenoy would remember.”
Mr Fontenoy nodded. The lawyers exchanged glances. If this were indeed an impostor he knew a deal about the family of Tremaine.
“But the second letter, sir?”
My lord raised his brows. “I told you, did I not? I do not know the hand at all.” He put up his glass and looked at it again. “Very ill-formed,” he remarked. “No, I know no one with such an undistinguished hand.”
Mr Rensley reddened angrily and opened his mouth to speak. Mr Brent put up a hand to silence him. “Is it not a little strange that you should not know the writing of the man you claim as cousin, sir?” he asked.
My lord was aghast. He looked at Rensley. “Good gad, cousin, is it yours indeed? I have been guilty of a breach of manners! I am desolated to have passed such a stricture on your hand.”
“You do not answer me, sir,” Mr Brent pointed out.