Sir Bryson leaned forward in his chair, and peered at Jack through squeezed-up eyes in a way that he intended to be magisterial and intimidating. "Where is this fellow now?" he barked.
Jack smiled a little grimly. "He is before you," he said quietly. "I am Malcolm Piers."
Sir Bryson fell back in his chair, and puffed. He appeared to have suffered a sudden loss of motive power. "Well, well, I knew that," he said flatly. "But I didn't expect you to have the assurance to admit it to my face."
"I have no reason to conceal my name," said Jack.
Sir Bryson gradually worked himself up again. "No reason?" he cried. "You young blackguard! It was an honourable name until it descended to you! I ought to have guessed the truth from your intimacy with the details of these swindling operations. No reason? We'll see what the law has to say to that!"
"The law?" said Jack, quickly. "The money which I did not take has been paid into the bank. What has the law to do with it?"
Sir Bryson smiled disagreeably. "Apparently you do not know," he said, "that you are under indictment for grand larceny, and that your uncle, Mr. McInnes, directed his executors to see that you were prosecuted whenever you should be found."
This was a staggerer for Jack.
"Aha! that touches you!" said Sir Bryson. "That shakes your impudence, eh? Moreover, I do not think the province of Athabasca, of which I have the honour to be chief executive, will raise any obstacles to giving you up to the province of Quebec!"
Jack felt a little sick with helpless rage. He drew the mask of obstinacy over his face, and held his tongue. What could he say? It would only draw down their ridicule for him to confess that the only witness to his innocence was an insane man.