“I am,” said Arthur, “the son of the gentleman now in possession of Wyncote, and have full permission to act for him. If, indeed, you desire further to learn on what authority—”
“Not at all, not at all,” interposed Wilson. “Your presence suffices; no more is needed. This meeting commits no one.”
“I was about to ask the date of this document,” said Arthur.
“Certainly; here it is.” And so saying the lawyer spread the deed out on the table. “It is a conveyance from William Wynne to Hugh of that name; the date, 1671, October 9; the witnesses are Henry Owen and Thomas ap Roberts. It is voluminous. Do you desire to hear it?”
“No; oh no! What next?”
“We believe,” continued the lawyer, “that this deed has ceased to have effect, owing to lapse of time and the appearance—pray note my words—the appearance of undisputed ownership by the younger branch. Neither is there any trust to hold the estate for Hugh; it is a mere conveyance.”
“There can be, of course, no doubt,” returned Arthur—“I mean as to a century of unquestioned possession.”
“I am not secure as to the point you make,” said Mr. Wilson, courteously. “I cannot now decide. I am asked to state the matter impartially. My clients wish justice done to all, and will take no unfair advantage. It may be you have no case. There may have passed frequent letters on both sides, admitting the claim or reasserting it, and thus keeping it alive. Rents may have been paid. Facts like these may open questions as to the length of undisputed holding. Only your own courts can decide it, and that with all the evidence before them.”
“I am obliged by your frankness,” said my cousin. “I had hoped to see the matter fully settled.”
“That will never be,” said my aunt, “until I have carried it through every court in England.”