"Fellow, what _do_ you mean by this studied insolence?" demanded Downie, putting his hand on a silver bell, which, however, he did not ring, an indecision that caused a mocking smile to pass over the face of Sharkley, while the iris of his eyes dilated and shrunk as usual. "You are, I know, Sharkley the--aw, well I must say it--the low practitioner who got up by forgery and otherwise--don't look round, sir, we have no witnesses--the case of the adventuress Devereaux against me and my family. So what brings you here now?" "To tell you what I was beginning to state--the story of the wreck, by which your brother Richard, Lord Lamorna, perished at sea; and to prove that the certificate of his marriage with Miss Constance Devereaux, daughter of a merchant trader in the city of Montreal, has been discovered and safely preserved, and is here in Cornwall now, together with his lordship's will." Sharkley spoke with malicious bitterness, and Downie paused for a moment ere he said,-- "You have seen them?" "Yes." "Well, when I see those documents I shall believe in their existence--till then, you must hold me excused; but even their existence does not prove either their legality or authenticity. This is merely some new scheme to extort money," added Downie, almost passionately; "but it shall not succeed! That unhappy woman is dead--she died of paralysis I have heard--the victim, I doubt not, of her own evil passions. Her son--" "Your nephew, is with the army in India. Her daughter--" "Has disappeared," said Downie, almost exultingly, "too probably taking a leaf out of her charming mamma's book; and the army in Afghanistan has been destroyed--my son Audley's letters and the public papers assure me of that." "Yet your lordship would like to see the documents?" "Or what may seem to be the documents--certainly; in whose hands are they--yours?" "No--in those of one who may be less your lordship's friend--Derrick Braddon." "Braddon!" said Downie, growing if possible paler than usual; "Braddon, my brother's favourite servant, who was in all his secrets, and was with him in the Cornish regiment?" "The same, my lord." "D--n--but this looks ill!" stammered Downie, thrown off his guard. "For your lordship--very," said Sharkley with a covert smile. Downie felt that he had forgot himself, so he said, "Of course, this Braddon will show--perhaps deliver them to me." "You are the last man on earth to whom he will now either show or deliver them. Be assured of that." "For what reason, sir?" "The account he received from his sister and old Mike Treherne of your treatment of--well, I suppose we must call her yet--Mrs. Devereaux."