Julia found herself unable to come down to dinner, and Mr. Sedley had to confess that he had overtaxed her strength and imposed too far upon her zeal. “To tell truth,” added he, “I forgot she was not a colleague. So shrewd and purpose-like were all her remarks, such aptitude she displayed in rejecting what was valueless, and such acuteness in retaining all that was really important, it went clean out of my head that I was not dealing with a brother of the craft, instead of a very charming and beautiful young lady.”

“And you really have fallen upon papers of importance?” asked Nelly, eagerly; for Julia had already, in answer to the same question, said, “Mr. Sedley has pledged me to silence.”

“Of the last importance, Miss Bramleigh.” He paused for an instant, and then added, “I am well aware that I see nothing but friends, almost members of one family, around this table, but the habits of my calling impose reserve; and, besides, I am unwilling to make revelations until, by certain inquiries, I can affirm that they may be relied on.”

“Oh, Mr. Sedley, if you have a gleam—even a gleam—of hope, do give it us. Don't you think our long-suffering and patience have made us worthy of it?”

“Stop, Nelly,” cried Augustus, “I will have no appeals of this kind. Mr. Sedley knows our anxieties, and if he does not yield to them he has his own good reasons.”

“I don't see that,” broke in Jack. “We are not asking to hear our neighbor's secrets, and I take it we are of an age to be intrusted with our own.”

“You speak sharply, sir,” said Sedley, “but you speak well. I would only observe that the most careful and cautious people have been known to write letters, very confidential letters, which somehow get bruited about, so that clews are discovered and inferences traced which not unfrequently have given the most serious difficulties to those engaged in inquiry.”

“Have no fears on that score, Mr. Sedley,” said Jack. “There are no four people in Europe at this moment with fewer correspondents. I believe I might say that the roof of this house covers our whole world.”

“Jack is right, there,” added Augustus. “If we don't write to the 'Times' or the 'Post,' I don't see to whom we are to tell our news.”

“George has n't even a pulpit here to expound us from,” cried Jack, laughingly.

“You have an undoubted right to know what is strictly your own concern. The only question is, shall I be best consulting your interests by telling it?”

“Out with it, by all means,” said Jack. “The servants have left the room now, and here we are in close committee.”

Sedley looked towards Augustus, who replied by a gesture of assent; and the lawyer, taking his spectacles from his pocket, said, “I shall simply read you the entry of my notebook. Much of it will surprise, and much more gratify you; but let me entreat that if you have any doubts to resolve or questions to put, you will reserve them till I have finished. I will only say that for everything I shall state as fact there appears to me to be abundant proofs, and where I mention what is simply conjecture I will say so. You remember my condition, then? I am not to be interrupted.”

“Agreed,” cried Jack, as though replying for the most probable defaulter. “I 'll not utter a word, and the others are all discretion.”

“The case is this,” said Sedley. “Montague Bramleigh, of Cossenden Manor, married Enrichetta, daughter of Giacomo Lami, the painter. The marriage was celebrated at the village church of Portshandon, and duly registered. They separated soon after,—she retiring to Holland with her father, who had compromised himself in the Irish rebellion of '98. A son was born to this marriage, christened and registered in the Protestant church at Louvain as Godfrey Lami Bramleigh. To his christening Bramleigh was entreated to come; but under various pretexts he excused himself, and sent a costly present for the occasion. His letters, however, breathed nothing but affection, and fully recognized the boy as his son and his heir. Captain Bramleigh is, I know, impatient at the length of these details, but I can't help it. Indignant at the treatment of his daughter, Lami sent back the gift with a letter of insulting meaning. Several letters were interchanged of anger and recrimination; and Enrichetta, whose health had long been failing, sunk under the suffering of her desertion, and died. Lami left Holland, and repaired to Germany, carrying the child with him. He was also accompanied by a younger daughter, Carlotta, who, at the time I refer to, might have been sixteen or seventeen years of age. Lami held no intercourse with Bramleigh from this date, nor, so far as we know, did Bramleigh take measures to learn about the child,—how he grew up, or where he was. Amongst the intimates of Lami's family was a man whose name is not unfamiliar to newspaper readers of some thirty or forty years back,—a man who had figured in various conspiracies, and contrived to escape scathless where his associates had paid the last penalty of their crimes. This man became the suitor of Carlotta, and won her affections, although Giacomo neither liked nor trusted Niccolo Baldassare—”

“Stop, there,” cried Jack, rising, and leaning eagerly across the table. “Say that name again.”

“Niccolo Baldassare.”

“My old companion,—my comrade at the galleys,” exclaimed Jack; “we were locked to each other, wrist and ankle, for eight months.”

“He lives, then?”

“I should think he does. The old beggar is as stout and hale as any one here. I can't guess his age; but I'll answer for his vigor.”

“This will be all important hereafter,” said Sedley, making a note. “Now to my narrative. From Lami, Baldassare learned the story of Enrichetta's unhappy marriage and death, and heard how the child, then a playful little boy of three years or so, was the rightful heir of a vast fortune,—a claim the grandfather firmly resolved to prosecute at some future day. The hope was, however, not destined to sustain him, for the boy caught a fever and died. His burial-place is mentioned, and his age, four years.”

“So that,” cried Augustus, “the claim became extinct with him?”

“Of course; for though Montague Bramleigh re-married, it was not till six years after his first wife's death.”

“And our rights are unassailable?” cried Nelly, wildly.

“Your estates are safe; at least, they will be safe.”

“And who is Pracontal de Bramleigh?” asked Jack.

“I will tell you. Baldassare succeeded in winning Carlotta' s heart, and persuaded her to elope with him. She did so, carrying with her all the presents Bramleigh had formerly given to her sister,—some rings of great price, and an old watch with the Bramleigh arms in brilliants, among the number. But these were not all. She also took the letters and documents that established her marriage, and a copy of the registration. I must hasten on, for I see impatience on every side. He broke the heart of this poor girl, who died, and was buried with her little boy, in the same grave, leaving old Lami desolate and childless. By another marriage, and by a wife still living, Marie Pracontal, Baldassare had a son; and he bethought him, armed as he was with papers and documents, to prefer the claim to the Bramleigh estates for this youth; and had even the audacity to ask Lami's assistance to the fraud, and to threaten him with his vengeance if he betrayed him.

“So perfectly propped was the pretension by circumstances of actual events,—Niccolo knew everything,—that Bramleigh not only sent several sums of money to stifle the demand, but actually despatched a confidential person abroad to see the claimant, and make some compromise with him; for it is abundantly evident that Montague Bramleigh only dreaded the scandal and the Éclat such a story would create, and had no fears for the title to his estates, he all along believing that there were circumstances in the marriage with Enrichetta which would show it to be illegal, and the issue consequently illegitimate.”

“I must say, I think our respected grandfather,” said Augustus, gravely, “does not figure handsomely in this story.”

“With the single exception of old Lami,” cried Jack, “they were a set of rascals,—every man of them.”

“And is this the way you speak of your dear friend Niccolo Baldassare?” asked Nelly.

“He was a capital fellow at the galleys; but I suspect he 'd prove a very shady acquaintance in more correct company.”

“And, Mr. Sedley, do you really say that all this can be proven?” cried Nelly. “Do you believe it all yourself?”

“Every word of it. I shall test most of it within a few days. I have already telegraphed to London for one of the clever investigators of registries and records. I have ample means of tracing most of the events I need. These papers of old Lami's are full of small details; they form a closer biography than most men leave behind them.”

“There was, however, a marriage of my grandfather with Enrichetta Lami?” asked Augustus.

“We give them that,” cried the lawyer, who fancied himself already instructing counsel. “We contest nothing,—notice, registry, witnesses, all are as legal as they could wish. The girl was Mrs. Bramleigh, and her son, Montague Bramleigh's heir. Death, however, carried away both, and the claim fell with them. That these people will risk a trial now is more than I can believe; but if they should, we will be prepared for them. They shall be indicted before they leave the court, and Count Pracontal de Bramleigh be put in the dock for forgery.”

“No such thing, Sedley!” broke in Bramleigh, with an energy very rare with him. “I am well inclined to believe that this young man was no party to the fraud,—he has been duped throughout; nor can I forget the handsome terms he extended to us when our fortune looked darkest.”

“A generosity on which late events have thrown a very ugly light,” muttered Sedley.

“My brother is right. I 'll be sworn he is,” cried Jack. “We should be utterly unworthy of the good luck that has befallen us, if the first use we made of it was to crush another.”

“If your doctrines were to prevail, sir, it would be a very puzzling world to live in,” said Sedley, sharply.

“We 'd manage to get on with fewer lawyers, anyway.”

“Mr. Sedley,” said Nelly, mildly, “we are all too happy and too gratified for this unlooked-for deliverance to have a thought for what is to cause suffering anywhere. Let us, I entreat you, have the full enjoyment of this great happiness.”

“Then we are probably to include the notable Mr. Cutbill in this act of indemnity?” said Sedley, sneeringly.

“I should think we would, sir,” replied Jack. “Without the notable Mr. Cutbill's aid we should never have chanced on those papers you have just quoted to us.”

“Has he been housebreaking again?” asked Sedley, with a grin.

“I protest,” interposed Bramleigh, “if the good fairy who has been so beneficent to us were only to see us sparring and wrangling in this fashion, she might well think fit to withdraw her gift.”

“Oh, here's Julia,” cried Nelly; “and all will go right now.”

“Well,” said Julia, “has any one moved the thanks of the house to Mr. Sedley; for if not, I 'm quite ready to do it. I have my speech prepared.”

“Move! move!” cried several, together.

“I first intend to have a little dinner,” said she; “but I have ordered it in the small dining-room; and you are perfectly welcome, any or all of you, to keep me company, if you like.”

To follow the conversation that ensued would be little more than again to go over a story which we feel has been already impressed with tiresome reiteration on the reader. Whatever had failed in Sedley's narrative, Julia's ready wit and quick intelligence had supplied by conjecture, and they talked on till late into the night, bright gleams of future projects shooting like meteors across the placid heaven of their enjoyment, and making all bright around them.

Before they parted it was arranged that each should take his separate share of the inquiry; for there were registries to be searched, dates confirmed in several places; and while L'Estrange was to set out for Louvain, and Jack for Savoy, Sedley himself took charge of the weightier question to discover St. Michel, and prove the burial of Godfrey Bramleigh.