“But do you mean to do that now?”
“Of course not; oh no. I was only speaking figuratively. The first thing is to get Mr Henry Harding here,—he must be sent for immediately. Let me see: Estancia Torreani, Rosario. Up the Parana River, you say. With your kind directions, sir, my own son shall start for South America at once. It’s a long way, but no matter for that. A hundred thousand pounds is worth going round the world for more than once. And now, sir, I will make request for two favours: one, that you will write to your friend, Mr Henry Harding, telling him what you have learnt. My son can carry your letter along with other instructions. The other favour I would ask is, that you give your word to keep this affair a secret until—well, until Mr Henry Harding himself appears upon the ground.”
Of course the promise was given—as also the directions to serve Lawson junior on his Transatlantic itinerary; and leaving my address, so that Lawson senior could at any time communicate with me, I took my departure from Lincoln’s Inn Fields, rejoiced, as well as surprised, at the discovery I had made.
Chapter Sixty Five.
The Finger of Fate.
In less than six months from the date of my interview with the Lincoln’s Inn lawyer, there occurred in the London courts a trial of more than usual interest.
It was a case of contested will—no very uncommon thing. But in that to which I refer, there were circumstances of a peculiar, I might say very peculiar, kind. These, with the position of the parties concerned, rendered the suit worthy of being placed among the records of causes célèbres.
It was the case of “Harding versus Harding;” the defendant being Nigel Harding, Esq, of Beechwood Park, Buckinghamshire; the plaintiff, a Mr Henry Harding, who claimed to be his half-brother.