And as he gave back the portfolio to Sir Rowland he contrived, unobserved, to slip the precious document into his sleeve, and from thence into his pocket.
"And, does any of our bright blood flow in the veins of a ruffianly housebreaker?" cried Trenchard, with a look of bewilderment. "I'll not believe it."
"Others may, if you won't," muttered Jack, retiring. "Thank Heaven! I'm not basely born."
"Now, mark me," said Jonathan, "and you'll find I don't do things by halves. By your father, Sir Montacute Trenchard's will, you are aware,—and, therefore, I need not repeat it, except for the special purpose I have in view,—you are aware, I say, that, by this will, in case your sister Aliva, died without issue, or, on the death of such issue, the property reverts to Constance and her issue."
"I hear," said Sir Rowland, moodily.
"And I," muttered Jack.
"Thames Darrell once destroyed," pursued Jonathan. "Constance—or, rather, Mrs. Sheppard—becomes entitled to the estates; which eventually—provided he escaped the gallows—would descend to her son."
"Ha!" exclaimed Jack, drawing in his breath, and leaning forward with intense curiosity.
"Well, Sir?" gasped Sir Rowland.
"But this need give you no uneasiness," pursued Jonathan; "Mrs. Sheppard, as I told you, is in Bedlam, an incurable maniac; while her son is in the New Prison, whence he will only be removed to Newgate and Tyburn."