“Yes, Leon,” said, Sir Lionel, “you're right. She is your own cousin. As to her father, you must remember how I have always said that he was innocent, and sinned against rather than sinning. Heaven forbid that we should visit on this poor child the disgrace of her father, when he was not guilty at all. I feel confident, Leon, that you will espouse her cause as eagerly as I do; and since I am prevented from doing any thing by this infernal gout, I look to you to represent me in this business, and bring that infernal scoundrel to justice.” “Infernal scoundrel! What infernal scoundrel?” “Why, this Wiggins.” “Wiggins?” “Yes. The madman that is trying to shut up Edith, and keep her under lock and key.” “Edith! Who's Edith? What, Dalton's daughter? Oh, is that her name? But what do you mean? What madman? what lock and key?” “You know Wiggins, don't you?” asked Sir Lionel. “Which Wiggins? There are several that I know--Wiggins the sausage man, Wiggins the rat-catcher, Wig--” “I mean John Wiggins, of John Wiggins and Company, solicitors, Liverpool. You know them perfectly well. I sent you there once.” “Yes,” said Leon, slowly, “I remember.” “What sort of a man was this John Wiggins himself when you saw him?” “Oh, an ordinary-looking person--grave, quiet, sensible, cool as a clock, and very reticent. I told you all about him.” “Yes, but I didn't know but that you might remember something that would throw light on his present actions. You went there to ask some questions in my name with reference to poor Dalton, and the disposal of his property.” “Yes, and got about as little satisfaction as one could get.” “He was not communicative.” “Not at all. Every answer was an evasion. What little I did get out of him had to be dragged out. The most important questions he positively refused to answer.” “Of course. I remember all that, for I was the one who wished to know, and consequently his refusal to answer affected me most of all. I wondered at the time, and thought that it might be some quiet plan of his, but I really had no idea of the audacity of his plans.” “How is that?” “Wait a moment. Did you see anything in this man that could excite the suspicion that he was at all flighty or insane?” “Insane! Certainly not. He was, on the contrary, the sanest person I ever met with.” “Well, then, he must have become insane since. I've no doubt that he has for years been planning to get control of the Dalton property; and now, when he has become insane, he is still animated by this ruling passion, and has gone to work to gratify it in this mad way.” “Mad way? What mad way? I don't understand.” “Well, I'll tell you all about it. I merely wished to get your unbiased opinion of the man first;” and upon this Sir Lionel told him the whole story which Miss Plympton had narrated to him. To all this Leon listened with the deepest interest and the most profound astonishment, interrupting his father by frequent questions and exclamations.