Wilmeter was not accustomed to much circumlocution; and he at once communicated the substance of the strange rumour that was in circulation, touching their interesting client. The uncle listened with intense attention, turning pale as the nephew proceeded. Instead of answering or making any comment, he sank upon a chair, leaned his hands on a table and his head on his hands, for fully a minute. All were struck with these signs of agitation; but no one dared to interfere. At length, this awkward pause came to a close, and Dunscomb raised his head, the face still pale and agitated. His eye immediately sought that of Millington. “You had heard this story, Michael?” demanded the counsellor. “I had, sir. John and I went together to try to trace it to some authority.” “With what success?” “None whatever. It is in every one’s mouth, but no one can say whence it came. Most rumours have a clue, but this seems to have none.” “Do you trace the connection which has struck—which has _oppressed_ me?” “I do, sir, and was so struck the moment I heard the rumour; for the facts are in singular conformity with what you communicated to me some months since.” “They are, indeed, and create a strong probability that there is more truth in this rumour than is commonly to be found in such reports. What has become of Timms?” “On the ground, ’Squire,” answered that worthy from the outer room—“just despatching my clerk”—this word he pronounced ‘clurk’ instead of ‘clark,’ by way of showing he knew how to spell—“with a message to one of my men. He will find him, and be with us in a minute.” In the mean time, Timms had a word to say to each client in succession; getting rid of them all by merely telling each man, in his turn, there was not the shadow of doubt that he would get the better of his opponent in the trial that was so near at hand. It may be said here, as a proof how much a legal prophet may be mistaken, Timms was subsequently beaten in each of these three suits, to the great disappointment of as many anxious husbandmen, each of whom fondly counted on success, from the oily promises he had received. In a very few minutes the agent expected by Timms appeared in the office. He was plain-looking, rather rough and honest in appearance, with a most wily, villanous leer of the eye. His employer introduced him as Mr. Johnson. “Well, Johnson, what news?” commenced Timms. “These are friends to Mary Monson, and you can speak out, always avoiding partic’lar partic’lars.” Johnson leered, helped himself to a chew of tobacco with great deliberation, a trick he had when he needed a moment of thought before he made his revelations; bowed respectfully to the great York lawyer; took a good look at each of the young men, as if to measure their means of doing good or harm; and then condescended to reply.