“In Brandon.”
“Very well. Excuse my questions, but I was anxious to learn how much you knew. You will see shortly that they were not idle. Has any thing ever been done by any of the relatives to discover whether these suspicions were correct?”
“At first nothing was done. They accepted as an established fact the decision of the Manilla court. They did not even suspect then that any thing else was possible. It was only subsequent circumstances that led my uncle to have some vague suspicions.”
“What were those, may I ask?”
“I would rather not tell,” said Despard, who shrank from relating to a stranger the mysterious story of Edith Brandon.
“It is as well, perhaps. At any rate, you say there were no suspicions expressed till your uncle was led to form them?”
“No.”
“About how long ago was this?”
“About two years ago—a little more, perhaps. I at once devoted myself to the task of discovering whether they could be maintained. I found it impossible, however, to learn any thing. The event had happened so long ago that it had faded out of men’s minds. The person whom I suspected had become very rich, influential, and respected. In fact, he was unassailable, and I have been compelled to give up the effort.”
“Would you like to learn something of the truth?” asked the stranger, in a thrilling voice.