“You reached London in safety, of course?”
“Even so,” replied Gray. “Permit me to congratulate you upon your house. It really is—”
“Yes, yes,” cried Learmont, impatiently. “Let us to business, Master Gray. You found the papers your extreme prudence had left in London, when you favoured me with a visit, quite safe, I trust?”
“Perfectly safe, and untouched,“ said Gray; “and—and—permit me to add, that I have placed them again under such circumstances as must ensure their delivery to one who has power and will to use them, should anything sudden—you understand—happen to your humble servant, Jacob Gray.”
“May I ask whose hands you consider so peculiarly adapted for those papers?”
“Oh, certainly; a neighbour of yours, Sir Francis Hartleton.”
“Sir Francis Hartleton?” exclaimed Learmont.
“Yes,” replied Gray; “one of the most acute lawyers and active justices in London.”
“As you please,” said Learmont. “Now, with regard to the—the—child?”
“He is quite well, squire, and likely to continue so.”