Clifford stared, as if the other had been speaking in a foreign language.
"What's that? Would you mind saying that again?"
"I'll not say it again; I'll not pipe to your dancing, you brazen vagabond!"
"Are you hinting that Joseph Oldfield is, or was, I don't know which it ought to be, a pseudonym? that he had, or has, another name?"
"Is that the trick you're trying to play? You wish it to be believed that you didn't know there was such a person as Donald Lindsay; that he and Joseph Oldfield were one and the same; and that in putting the name upon a bill stamp you did it innocently, in ignorance that was childlike and bland. The idea is ingenious; as, I fancy, Mr. Clifford, most of your ideas are; but you won't find a judge or jury quite so simple."
Ignoring Mr. Morgan, Frank Clifford, to the unprejudiced observer, seemed to be engaged in reflections of his own; to which he presently gave shape in disconnected words.
"Donald Lindsay? I seem to have heard the name."
"I shouldn't be surprised."
"Donald Lindsay? Why--it can't be!"
"That conscience is pricking you at last? No, it can't be that."