For a moment there was an awkward pause, then Vulning held out his hand with a rather exaggerated cordiality.
“Come on, now, be cousinly. I know you are prejudiced against me; but, hang it all, I’ve suffered more at your hands than you have at mine. Let’s forget it, bury the hatchet, shake hands. Come, be a good sport.”
Hugh complied reluctantly. Cousin or not he could not overcome his repugnance to this man.
“You were doubtless surprised,” Vulning went on pleasantly. “I was, too, when I made the discovery. It was our mutual friend, Mrs. Belmire, who put me on the track. It is really a very curious coincidence. However, we won’t dwell on that. I asked you up here to speak about quite another matter. Won’t you sit down? You’ll find that arm-chair quite decent.”
Hugh took it, but Vulning remained standing.
“Now,” he continued, “I am afraid I am going to surprise you a second time. To make a long story short, a few days ago there came into my hands, in a round-about-way, certain documents with which you are doubtless familiar. It was with regard to these I wanted to see you. Look....”
With that Vulning extracted from the inside pocket of his coat a rolled mass of manuscript, and laid it on the table, keeping his hand on it.
“You know this, eh?”
Hugh was speechless. He sat staring at the document. The cover had been torn away, but he recognized it at once.
“The system of Professor Durand,” he gasped.