The Bramleighs of Bishop's Folly Part 96

A long low whistle was Cutbill's only reply as he took the paper and studied it long and attentively.

"Why, this is the whole story," cried he at last. "This old galley-slave is the real claimant, and Pracontal has no right, while Niccolo, or whatever his name be, lives. This may turn out glorious news for your brother, but I 'm not lawyer enough to say whether it may not be the Crown that will benefit, if his estates be confiscated for felony."

"I don't think that this was the sort of service Old Nick asked me to render him when we parted," said Jack, dryly.

"Probably not. He only asked you to help his son to take away your brother's estate."

"Old Nick knew nothing about whose brother I was. He trusted me to do him a service, and I told him I would."

Though Cutbill paid but little attention to him, Jack talked on for some time of his old comrade, recounting the strange traits of his nature, and remembering with grat.i.tude such little kindness as it was in his power to show.

"I 'd have gone clean out of my mind but for him," said he, at last.

"And we have all believed that this fellow was lost at sea," muttered Cutbill. "Bolton gave up all his papers and the remnant of his property to his son in that belief."

"Nor does he wish to be thought living now. He charged me to give no clew to him. He even said I was to speak of him as one I had met at Monte Video years ago."

"These are things for a 'cuter head than yours or mine, Jack," said Cutbill, with a cunning look. "We 're not the men to see our way through this tangle. Go and show that sc.r.a.p of paper to Sedley, and take this box with you. Tell him how you came by each. That old fox will soon see whether they confirm the case against your brother or disclose a flaw in it."

"And is that the way I'm to keep my word to Old Nick?" said Jack, doggedly.

"I don't suppose you ever bound yourself to injure your own flesh and blood by a blank promise. I don't believe there 's a family in Europe with as many scruples, and as little sense how to deal with them."

"Civil that, certainly."

"Not a bit civil, only true; but let us not squabble. Go and tell Sedley what we have chanced upon. These men have a way of looking at the commonest events--and this is no common event--that you nor I have never dreamed of. If Pracontal's father be alive, Pracontal cannot be the claimant to your estates; that much, I take it, is certain. At all events, Sedley's the man to answer this."

Half pushing Jack out of the room while he deposited the box in his hands, Cutbill at last sent him off, not very willingly indeed, or concurringly, but like one who, in spite of himself, saw he was obliged to take a particular course, and travel a road without the slightest suspicion of where it led to.

CHAPTER LXV. THE LIGHT STRONGER.

"Sedley asks for the best Italian scholar amongst us," said Augustus the next morning, at breakfast, "and the voice of public opinion calls upon you, Julia."

"You know what Figaro said of 'common report.' I'll not repeat it," said she, laughing, "and I 'll even behave as if I did n't believe it. And now what is wanted of me, or my Italian scholarship?"

"The matter is thus: Sedley has received some papers"--here a look of intelligence pa.s.sed between Augustus and Jack--"which he imagines may be of consequence, but being in Italian, he can't read them. He needs a translator--"

"I am equal to that," broke she in, "but why don't we do it in committee, as you political people call it? Five heads are better than one."

"Mr Sedley is absolute, and will have but one."

"And am I to be closeted for a whole morning with Mr. Sedley? I declare it seems compromising. Jack frowns at me. There is nothing so prudish as a sailor. I wish any one would tell me why it is so."

"Well, the matter is as you have stated it," said Augustus. "Mr. Sedley says, 'Let me have the aid of some one who will not grudge me two hours, mayhap three. '"

"What if the doc.u.ments should turn out love-letters?"

"Julia! Julia!" cried Jack, reprovingly; for in reality her sallies kept him in constant anxiety.

"I can't help it, Jack; I must be prudent, even if I shock you by my precautions. I repeat, if these be love-letters?"

"Well, I can answer so far," said Augustus. "They are not,--at least, I can almost a.s.sert they are not."

"I wish Nelly would go," said Julia, with mock seriousness. "I see Jack is wretched about it; and, after all, Mr. Sedley, though not exactly a young man--"

"I declare this is too bad," said Jack, rising angrily from the table, and then throwing himself back in his chair, as in conflict with his own temper.

"She _is_ provoking, there is no doubt of it, and on board ship we 'd not stand that sort of thing five minutes," said Julia, with a demure air; "but on land, and amongst terrestrial creatures, Master Jack, I know nothing for it but patience."

"Patience!" muttered he, with an expression that made them all burst out laughing.

"So I may tell Sedley you will aid him?" asked Bramleigh.

"I'm ready, now. Indeed, the sooner begun the better; for we have a long walk project--haven 't we, Jack?--for this afternoon."

"Yes, if we have patience for it," said he. And once more the laugh broke forth as they arose from table and separated into little knots and groups through the room.

"I may tell you, Julia," said Augustus, in a half whisper, "that though I have given up hoping this many a day, it is just possible there may be something in these papers of moment to me, and I know I have only to say as much to secure your interest in them."

"I believe you can rely upon that," said she; and within less than five minutes afterwards she was seated at the table with Mr. Sedley in the study, an oblong box of oak clasped with bra.s.s in front of them, and a variety of papers lying scattered about.

"Have you got good eyes, Miss L'Estrange?" said Sedley, as he raised his spectacles, and turned a peering glance towards her.

"Good eyes?" repeated she, in some astonishment.

"Yes; I don't mean pretty eyes, or expressive eyes. I mean, have you keen sight?"

"I think I have."

"That's what I need from you at this moment; here are some papers with erasures and re-writings, and corrections in many places, and it will take all your acuteness to distinguish between the several contexts.

Aided by a little knowledge of Latin, I have myself discovered some pa.s.sages of considerable interest. I was half the night over them; but with your help, I count on accomplishing more in half an hour."

While he spoke he continued to arrange papers in little packets before him, and, last of all, took from the box a painter's palette and several brushes, along with two or three of those quaintly shaped knives men use in fresco-painting.

"Have you ever heard of the painter Giacomo Lami?" asked he.

"Of course I have. I know the whole story in which he figures. Mr.

Bramleigh has told it to me."

"These are his tools. With these he accomplished those great works which have made him famous among modern artists, and by his will--at least I have spelled out so much--they were buried along with him."

"And where was he buried?"

"Here! here in Cattaro. His last work was the altar-piece of the little chapel of the villa."

"Was there ever so strange a coincidence!"