"Mr. Brian Southcote," said Saville, going on slowly, and now and then looking up at me as he sorted his papers, "was an extremely benevolent person--so much so, that ill-natured people said he had no will of his own, and that he did not care how wrong or how foolish anything was, so long as it was generous; perhaps you object to such plain speaking when your respectable relation is the subject," he said, stopping short with a low bow. "Pray, go on, go on," said I impatiently. I suppose he thought now that he had tantalized and irritated me sufficiently, for he proceeded at a less deliberate pace. "It is said that his younger brother, Mr. Howard, had married the lady to whom they were both attached, and lived in his father's house, in possession of all the ordinary privileges of an heir, while the elder brother was self-banished in Jamaica, on pretence of looking after an estate, which he knew nothing about, and had not activity enough to have done anything for, even if he had been informed. Now, Mrs. Southcote, under these circumstances, your uncle being still a young man, of course, married the first woman who made herself agreeable to him--and this woman happened to be my cousin, the widow of a young naval officer, a young penniless widow with one boy." I started involuntarily--I could see already where the serpent was winding--was this the secret? "With one boy," he continued significantly, "called Harry Southern--you see there is not much difference even in the name; this child, as I will show you by a paper executed by your uncle some time before his marriage, he had already chosen for his heir, directing that he should take his name, and, after his death, be called Harry Southcote. It is not to be supposed that after Mr. Southcote married Mrs. Southern, his partiality for the boy should diminish, and this boy I have every reason to suppose is your husband, whom, by politeness, I will still call Edgar Southcote of Cottiswoode." I was stunned for the moment--the story looked reasonable, true--it was no exaggerated malicious lie coined on the spot. I looked up with dismay into the hard exultation of this man's face, but when I caught his cunning, evil eye, my heart revived. "Had you always reason to suppose this?" I said, keeping my eyes fixed upon him. For a moment, only a moment, his confident glance fell. "Of course not, of course not," he said, with a little bustle and swagger, which I could see was to conceal some embarrassment. "When _I_ took steps in the matter, you may be sure I thought I had got hold of the right person; it is only lately that I have found my error out." "And how did you find it out?" I asked perseveringly.