“Then follow me another step, Stubbs. Failing John Audley, who is the next heir?”
“Mr. Peter Audley,” Stubbs replied, “his only brother, would succeed, if he were alive. But it is common ground that he is dead. I knew Mr. Peter, and, if I may say it of an Audley, my lord, a more shiftless, weak, improvident gentleman never lived. And obstinate as the devil! He married into trade, and Mr. John never forgave it—never forgave it, my lord. Never spoke of his brother or to his brother from that time. It was before the Reform Bill,” the lawyer continued with a sigh. “There were no railways then and things were different. Dear, dear, how the world changes! Mr. Peter must have gone abroad ten years ago, but until he was mentioned in the suit I don’t think that I had heard his name ten times in as many years. And he an Audley!”
“He had a child?”
“Only one, a daughter.”
“Would she come in after Mr. John?”
“Yes, my lord, she would—if living.”
“I’ve been talking to her this evening.”
“Ah!” The lawyer was not so simple as he seemed, and for a minute or two he had foreseen the dénouement. “Ah!” he repeated, thoughtfully rubbing his plump calf. “I see, my lord. Mr. Peter Audley’s daughter? Really! And if I may venture to ask, what is she like?”
Audley paused before he answered. Then, “If you have painted the father aright, Stubbs, I should say that she was his opposite in all but his obstinacy. A calm and self-reliant young woman, if I am any judge.”
“And handsome?”