‘I should hope that would be enough,’ said Margaret confidently.
‘It will be enough for you, Maggie,’ said the young man quietly, ‘but I am very doubtful whether it will be sufficient for others, since even to myself it would still seem like a dream save for the documentary evidence. If that is right, as Mr. Erin seems to think, all is right.’
‘And for that you are not responsible,’ put in Margaret eagerly.
‘Just so; I know no more about it being Shakespeare’s genuine signature than you do. How the thing came into my hands was this way. You know the Horn Tavern in Fleet Street, Dennis?’
‘Well, of course. Did I not dine with you ten days ago there?’
‘Nay; let us be accurate throughout. I dined with you,’ said the young man, smiling. ‘And that reminds me of what I had forgotten before; it was on that very day that I first met my friend. Did you notice an old gentleman with a flaxen wig dining by himself in the corner?—indeed, I know you did, for we remarked that it was rather early in the day for a man to be drinking port.’
‘I remember your making the observation,’ answered Dennis; ‘but I cannot recall the gentleman; I did not notice him with any particularity.’
‘Nor I. But it seems that he noticed me. I took my mid-day meal there the next day, and there he was again. We sat at adjoining tables, and he entered into conversation with me. His manner was at first a little stiff and reticent, like that of an old bachelor who lives alone; but something I said about Child’s bank seemed to attract his attention. He was not aware that the accounts for the sale of Dunkirk had been found among their papers, and seemed more astonished that I should know it. Again, it amazed him to find that I knew about Chaucer’s having beaten the Franciscan Friar in Fleet Street. Being ignorant, of course, of the set of people I have been brought up amongst here, it doubtless astonished him that so young a man should take any interest in such matters. He said he was but an indifferent antiquary himself, from an incurable habit of indolence, which had grown upon him during years of seclusion, but that his tastes had at one time lain in that direction; that he possessed a considerable collection of manuscripts bequeathed to him by a cousin, and that if I liked to look in upon him at his chambers in the Temple, I might perhaps find something worthy of my attention.
‘Of course I availed myself of this invitation. I found my friend in an unusually large set of chambers, but which had the appearance of great neglect. The rooms he occupied himself were well cared for enough, though he informed me that he saw no company; but the others were used as lumber-rooms. They were filled with old books, old armour, old manuscripts, piled up on the floor in the greatest confusion. There were heaps of law documents, relating to his own affairs, which had no better treatment. I suppose my new friend saw by the expression of my face that I thought him a very eccentric personage, for he suddenly observed, “I have taken a strong fancy to you, young gentleman, and I am not easily pleased; but there is one thing which you must beware of if you want our friendship to continue. I cannot be troubled with questions. The man who left me all these things was worried to death by the curiosity of other people. ‘Where did you get this? How did that come into your hands?’ and so on, There are some things here my possession of which would be so envied by some people, that I should never have a moment’s peace from their importunities. If you should come across any such treasure, and should reveal the place where you found it, you and I part company. Let that be thoroughly understood between us.” Of course I promised never to mention his name or address to any one.’