‘You are dreaming, sir, or you are deceived by some impostor. I and my child are the sole representatives of the Penwyn family.’
‘There are secrets in every family, Mr. Penwyn. There has been a secret in your family, religiously kept for more than twenty years, but lately brought to light; in some part by my agency.’
‘What, sir, you have come into this house as a spy, while you have been secretly assailing my position as inheritor of my cousin’s estate?’
‘I have not entered your house since I made the discovery I speak of.’
‘Your discovery has come about with marvellous rapidity, then, for it is not long since you were my guest.’
‘My discovery has been arrived at quickly.’
‘Pray acquaint me with the nature of this mare’s-nest.’
‘I have to inform you that your uncle, George Penwyn, before leaving England for the last time, privately married the daughter of his father’s tenant, Michael Trevanard, of Borcel End.’
Churchill Penwyn laughed contemptuously.
‘I congratulate you upon having hit upon about the most improbable story I ever heard of!’ he said. ‘My uncle, George Penwyn, married to old Trevanard’s daughter! and nobody upon earth aware of the fact till you, a stranger, unearthed it? A likely story, Mr. Clissold!’