“Where is Rufus Black?” asked the lawyer abruptly.
“Down at Hawkhurst. He remains there during the absence of the bridal party,” answered the young earl in surprise.
“And Rufus Black has confessed to Miss Wynde that he was not personally acquainted with Sir Harold Wynde?” mused the attorney. “My opinion about young Black is, that he is a well-meaning but weak-souled lad, just the person to be made a dupe or instrument in the hands of more unscrupulous and daring souls. I don’t dislike the boy. If he were his own master, or had a different father, he’d be a decent fellow.”
“What do you think of his father, Atkins?” inquired Sir John.
“I think he’s a villain.”
“And what do you think of this letter, Atkins?” asked Lord Towyn.
“I think,” said Atkins quietly, “that it is a forgery. More, I know that it is a forgery. Sir Harold Wynde was too tender a father to attempt to control his daughter’s choice of a husband in a manner so singular. The truth is, Craven Black has begun some sort of game against the Wyndes, and if it don’t date further back than Sir Harold’s death, I am mistaken. I see you look distressed, Sir John, so I will keep my ideas to myself until I can prove their value. Lord Towyn, will you allow me to retain this letter for the present, to study at my leisure?”
The young earl assented, and Atkins secured the letter on his person.
“And now what are we to do?” asked Sir John.
“I shall take a turn up into Yorkshire, and have a look at Wynde Heights for myself,” said Atkins. “You had better remain here, Sir John, and not expose yourself to useless fatigue.”