“What!” exclaimed the captain, “you mean to say that scoundrel actually claimed to be the lost son? I always had a high opinion of his impudence, but I never imagined it capable of that. Why, my dear sir, I have known him as a pettifogging money-lender in India for years.”
“Quite so; but did you know why and when he came to India?”
“I can’t say I did. Surely you don’t credit his story?”
“Well, not exactly. But it strikes me the gentleman will give us some difficulty.”
“Why? What good can it do him even if he is what he claims! He cannot upset the will, which emphatically cuts him out of every possibility of benefit.”
“No; that leaves him no loophole, certainly. But he may calculate on working on the chivalry of his younger brother, or if that fails, on blackmailing him.”
“If so, he will have us to deal with. For once in a way Armstrong and I are likely to be of the same opinion. Surely there is evidence enough to prosecute for conspiracy.”
“Hardly. He claims nothing but the name. He admits he has no rights. My opinion, Captain Oliphant, is that we have not heard the end of him.”
“Very likely not, especially as I unluckily owe him money.”
“That is awkward. The sooner you square accounts and get rid of him the better.”