James Grey frowned. Mr. Ferguson was one of the last men to whom he would have wished the communication known.
"He must have laughed at your ridiculous story."
"On the contrary, he fully believes it."
"I did not think him so gullible. Have you spoken to him about my being in the city?"
"I have."
"Did he know you were to call upon me this afternoon?"
"I told him before I came."
Things were evidently getting more serious than Mr. Grey had supposed. Not only was Gilbert a young man who meant business, but he was backed by a merchant of standing, whose former connection with the Grey family made his co-operation and favor of no slight importance. James Grey saw that he must temporize. Had he followed out his inclination, he would have sprung upon his obdurate nephew and pounded him to a jelly. But unfortunately he was in a civilized city, where laws are supposed to afford some protection from personal assault, and this course, therefore, was not to be thought of. Since violence, then, was not practicable, he must have recourse to stratagem, and, to put Gilbert temporarily off his guard, he must play a part.
"Well, young man," he said, at length, "I am not prepared at present to pronounce a definite opinion upon your claim. Of course, if really convinced that you were my nephew, I would acknowledge you to be such."
"I have some doubts as to that," thought Gilbert.