“The information to which I refer bears especially on certain incidents in the life of your late son and heir, Mr. John Alexander Clare.”
On the instant Sir Gilbert’s figure became as rigid as a ramrod. His lips opened and then shut again without a sound.
“Unless my information is at fault,” resumed the Captain, “the last occasion on which you and your son met was when, accompanied by another gentleman, you stopped for a few hours at Catanzaro in Calabria, at which place Mr. Clare was then residing.”
Sir Gilbert contented himself with bowing a grave assent. His face just then was a puzzle.
“Shortly afterwards Mr. Clare emigrated to the United States, and there, between two and three years later, he unfortunately met with his death through an accident.” Here the Captain paused and looked questionably at Sir Gilbert.
“Your information, Mr.—er—Captain Verinder, is quite correct as far as it goes,” said the latter as if in response to the look. “Still, I fail to see in what way—er—in short——”
“Why I, a stranger, have had the impertinence to come here and talk to you about matters which, as you doubtless think, can be no possible concern of mine,” interposed Verinder coolly. “That is the precise point, Sir Gilbert, as to which I now propose to enlighten you.”
Drawing his chair a few inches closer to that of Sir Gilbert he resumed:
“I have merely recapitulated certain facts already known to you in order that I might thereby be enabled to lead up to certain other facts which, as I have every reason to believe, have never been brought under your cognisance.”
He paused for a moment as if to allow his next words to gather force thereby.