Mr. Grahame felt the roots of his hair vibrate.
“Upon what ground do you assume such a deed to be in existence?” he asked, striving to appear calm.
“It is registered,” replied Clinton.
Mr. Grahame remained silent; his lips trembled; he could not have spoken if he would.
“There can be no doubt that there either is or was such a deed,” continued Charley, “or that, under the most positive and vehement denials of Mr. Wilton, the signature it bears is a forgery. It is assumed therefore, sir, directly by Mr. Wilton and indirectly by Mr. Nathan Gomer, that the instrument, being exclusively in your interest, could scarcely have had the false signature attached without your cognizance.”
Mr. Grahame felt as though a poisoned barb had pierced his soul. It was not alone that the surmise was just that he winced under the accusation, but his pride was acutely wounded at the readiness with which he was connected with an act so base.
With blanched cheeks, but a cold and haughty manner, he said, with knitted brows—
“When the deed of which you have spoken—if such there is—be produced, it will be time to discuss the truth or falsity of so foul an imputation.”
“When Mr. Wilton was sued by you, sir, for a large sum,” returned Charley, gravely, “the very instrument of which I speak was tendered to him to sign. He did not sign it, and yet that deed has been registered as being completed. I believe—though I cannot speak with exact certainty—that Mr. Nathan Gomer derived his information on this head from a scoundrel name d Chewkle.”
Mr. Grahame’s hair slowly lifted up.