“And in the future we are to call you Mr. Osmund Maiden,” said Flora, with a mocking flash in her eyes.
“Yes, he is Osmund Maiden,” hoarsely declared Christopher Burley. “But do you know all—all, sir?” he inquired eagerly.
“I think I do,” replied the captain.
“When we first met in Quebec, months ago, Mr. Burley, I suspected what had brought you to the Canadas. Your own words, you will remember, gave me the clew. I can assure you that I have managed to keep an eye on the London papers for years past. No news of importance has escaped me.”
“But—but why did you not—”
“Why not reveal myself before, you would say? I had a reason, Mr. Burley—one that might have kept my lips sealed indefinitely. But that reason ceased to exist about a month ago, and I was free to follow you to Fort Garry—free to disclose the truth. Are you satisfied, sir?”
“I am content and I am grateful,” replied the law clerk. “I have accomplished the difficult task that brought me across the seas. In this moment of triumph my arduous labors—my wanderings in a barbarous land—count for nothing. They are forgotten.”
With that Christopher Burley rolled his eyes till the whites, showed, and a look of vast importance grew on his smug and shaven face. Then, to my astonishment, he made a low and cringing bow before Captain Rudstone.
“My lord, I congratulate you,” he said proudly. “I greet you as the Earl of Heathermere, of Heathermere Hall, in Surrey—as the heir to an old and honored title, to a vast and rich estate!”
“I greet you as the Earl of Heathermere, of Heathermere Hall, in Surrey—as the heir to an old and honored title, to a vast and rich estate!”