“And were the records pertaining to this event thoroughly examined?”
“Certainly; everything was conducted with all due regard to the requirements of law, Mr. Winchester. Mr. Manning made a very brave showing in the interests of his wife—he is no half-way worker; while, as for myself, I seldom undertake anything which I am not pretty sure of carrying to a successful end,” Mr. Hubbard concluded, with significant emphasis.
“All the same, I do not believe one word of that woman’s story,” stoutly affirmed our hero, a frown of perplexity gathering upon his brow. “Mr. Brewster certainly never appeared like a man who had any such skeleton in his closet. I believe him to have been a strictly honorable man in every act of his life, and——”
“Yes, I believe there was a sort of mutual admiration society between you,” sarcastically interposed John Hubbard.
“And,” the young man continued, without appearing to heed the interruption, “I am sure that if he had known that he had an own child living he never would have allowed it to live in such poverty as the papers have represented was the lot of this woman and her daughter; he would, at least, have given them a comfortable support.”
“That is your idea of the matter, young man; but stranger things than that are happening every day,” dryly observed his companion. “It is rather difficult to judge just what kind of an existence some of our aristocrats do lead; indeed, many of them have been known to have been engaged in love-intrigues that would not bear the light of day.”
Gerald’s hand clenched involuntarily at this indirect slur upon his former high-minded employer.
“Mr. Brewster was never such a man,” he said sternly; “his life was clean, through and through. Where are these women now?”
“Ahem!” said Mr. Hubbard, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. “Mrs. Adam Brewster is at present in New York City; her daughter, who is now Mrs. John Hubbard, is here, in London, and we are stopping at the Langham.”