“Come, come, Brady! you don’t know what you are talking about,” said Lord Seabright, impatiently. “I left Sir Tristram Coffin Tresmont in London yesterday, and he is no more Breeze McCloud than I am. Whatever have you got into your head?”
“But, your lordship,” persisted the shopkeeper, now considerably excited, “this young gentleman wears the golden puzzle-ball fast to a chain around his neck that was give to Mr. Tristram by his wife, which I saw it with my own eyes on him when he was a blessed infant in his carriage.”
“So does the Sir Tristram Coffin Tresmont now in London wear a golden chain from which hangs a golden puzzle-ball, as you call it, that was fastened around his baby neck by his father, to whom it was presented by his wife. Is there anything more?”
“Well, I am beat!” gasped the astonished shopkeeper, wiping the perspiration from his forehead.
“So am I,” said Lord Seabright. “It’s bad enough to have to give up a fine property that I have for some time considered my own; but to have two claimants to it appear at once, and each of them producing the same proof of his identity, is a little too much. Have you any other reason for thinking this young friend of yours is what he claims to be?”
For answer the shopkeeper opened the door, and calling Breeze into the office, asked him to show his lordship the locket he wore about his neck.
Breeze produced the ball, opened it, and offered it for Lord Seabright’s inspection.
“Exactly the same,” said he, looking at it carefully.
Then Breeze touched the inside spring, and displayed the three tiny locks of hair, and the inscription on the under side of the plate.
“Hello! This is something new,” exclaimed Lord Seabright. “This proof goes away ahead of the other chap’s. We must look into this matter more closely.”