"For that I thank you, Lawyer Sharkley," replied Braddon, taking in his hard honest hand the damp, unwholesome fingers of the solicitor, adding somewhat awkwardly, "if you have a bad name, perhaps you can't help it." Mr. William S. Sharkley's face darkened, and his eyes dilated and shrunk, but he was too craven in spirit to manifest the least annoyance. "And it was through the lack of certain papers," resumed Braddon, "that my lady's case was lost, and her heart broken?" "Yes; the doubtful letter she produced referred to a certificate of marriage and a will in favour of her and her two children; but these documents, if they ever existed, no doubt perished with the captain, your master." "They did not, as they are here--_here_--in the pocket of my old coat, Master Sharkley; so it is of more value than it looks, for it contains a peerage and an estate," replied Braddon, with gleaming eyes, as he slapped his breast emphatically. For a moment Sharkley sat silent and bewildered, for the energy and perfect confidence of the speaker could not fail to impress him. Then he said,-- "You of course mean to turn them to account somehow?" "When the right time comes." "And to show them--" "To the right man when _he_ comes." "And who, and where is he?" "Young Denzil Trevelyan--Lord Lamorna--now in India, with the old Regiment. Could I but get there--there to the young master--" continued old Derrick with fervour; "but I might as well wish myself in the moon; for I am a poor friendless old fellow. One thing, Master Sharkley, I sha'n't trust the papers with you." Sharkley was silent again; Braddon's mistrust of him was open and unconcealed, and he saw but one way of obtaining a sight of papers so important, and that was by exciting his indignation by a sneer. "Ah--the lady at the villa was very much attached to your master--very handsome, and I doubt not--" "What more?" "Very expensive, as these kind of folks usually are." "What do you mean, sir?" asked Braddon, sternly. "I mean what my words imply; she could not prove herself a wedded wife, so her case had not a leg to stand on; yet I was her friend and adviser." "You think thus ill of her, and yet thrust yourself into her case." "My dear sir, I am a lawyer, and lawyers must feed." "Which is too often feeding what ought to be hung," replied Braddon, with all a soldier's contempt for the other's cloth. "I repeat that I was her friend," urged Sharkley. "God keep us from such friends, if all I have been told is true." "But giving a mere sight of those papers can do you no harm." "And you small good; however, see them you shall," replied Braddon, with something of grim triumph, as he drew them from the before-mentioned tin case. CHAPTER XXVII. THE LOST STEAMER.