“There are the papers,” the detective said, completely cowed, and taking some papers from an iron safe; “here are copies of certificates of the marriage, and baptism of the child. What else do you want?” “I want you to go before a magistrate with me, and swear this affidavit I have prepared, saying, that in pursuance of instructions you received from Captain Bradshaw, you traced his daughter from the place where her child was born; that you never lost sight of her, and that she died at John Holl’s, and that the child is the one mentioned in the certificate of baptism.” Without a word Barton followed Prescott down-stairs, and as they went out stole a glance at the lounging figure opposite, who, with his hands in his pockets, was apparently absorbed in the operation of smoking a pipe, but who, after they had passed, moved leisurely after them. When they came out from the Mansion House, Prescott said,— “Good morning, Mr. Barton; that is, I think, satisfactory to all parties.” The detective walked off without saying a word, he was too completely beaten even to retort. “It’s all right, Slogger,” Prescott said to the man. “He was a dreadful cur. Come to-morrow at eleven o’clock to my rooms in the Temple, and I will hand you over the money.” “All right, governor, I’ll be there,” and the man turned off again westward. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER IX JOHN HOLL, DUST CONTRACTOR. Arthur Prescott went up the same evening to Lowndes Square. The invalid had gone to bed, and Captain Bradshaw and Miss Heathcote were alone. “Well, Mr. Prescott,” Captain Bradshaw said, after the first greetings, “I suppose you have no news to give us yet?” “I have better than news, Captain Bradshaw; I have these to give you. There are all the proofs required in any court of law in the world to prove that James is your grandson and legitimate heir.” “Really, Mr. Prescott?” “Yes, really, Captain Bradshaw.” “My dear sir,” the old man said, shaking him warmly by the hand, “I am delighted. I don’t know how to thank you. I have been thinking, since I saw you, that it would be necessary to come to terms with that scoundrel Barton, and I am very glad you took it upon yourself to act without asking me first. How much have you had to promise him? A heavy sum, of course; but I shan’t grudge it.” “Not a very heavy amount, sir, considering their value. I shall want a cheque from you for fifty pounds.” “Fifty pounds!” exclaimed Captain Bradshaw. “Do you mean to say Barton gave them up for fifty pounds?” “No, that he did not,” Prescott laughed; “nor would he have given them up for much less than a hundred times that amount. If it is any satisfaction to you, Captain Bradshaw, Barton will not get one penny. I will tell you the whole story. But it is rather a long one, so you had better sit down to listen to it.”