I thought of my precious folio. But I did not yet know how much additional force his insinuation with regard to the motive of my labours in the library would gain if it should be discovered that such a volume was in my possession. ‘You may have remarked, sir,’ he went on, ‘that I did not read the name of the owner of the sword in any place where it occurred in the manuscript.’ ‘I did. And I beg to know why you kept it back,’ answered Sir Giles. ‘What do you think the name might be, sir?’ ‘How should I know? I am not an antiquarian.’ ‘Sir _Wilfrid Cumbermede_. You will find the initials on the blade.--Does that throw any light on the matter, do you think, sir?’ ‘Why, that is your very own name!’ cried Sir Giles, turning to me. I bowed. ‘It is a pity the sword shouldn’t be yours.’ ‘It is mine, Sir Giles--though, as I said, I am prepared to abide by your decision.’ ‘And now I remember;--the old man resumed, after a moment’s thought--‘the other evening Mr Alderforge--a man of great learning, Mr Cumbermede--told us that the name of Cumbermede had at one time belonged to our family. It is all very strange. I confess I am utterly bewildered.’ ‘At least you can understand, sir, how a man of imagination, like Mr Cumbermede here, might desire to possess himself of a weapon which bears his initials, and belonged two hundred years ago to a baronet of the same name as himself--a circumstance which, notwithstanding it is by no means a common name, is not _quite_ so strange as at first sight appears--that is, if all reports are true.’ I did not in the least understand his drift; neither did I care to inquire into it now. ‘Were you aware of this, Mr Cumbermede?’ asked his father. ‘No, Sir Giles,’ I answered. ‘Mr Cumbermede has had the run of the place for weeks. I am sorry I was not at home. This book was lying all the time on the table in the room above, where poor old Close’s work-bench and polishing-wheel are still standing.’ ‘Mr Brotherton, this gets beyond bearing,’ I cried. ‘Nothing but the presence of your father, to whom I am indebted for much kindness, protects you.’ ‘Tut! tut!’ said Sir Giles. ‘Protects me, indeed!’ exclaimed Brotherton. ‘Do you dream I should be by any code bound to accept a challenge from you?--Not, at least, I presume to think, before a jury had decided on the merits of the case.’ My blood was boiling, but what could I do or say? Sir Giles rose, and was about to leave the room, remarking only-- ‘I don’t know what to make of it.’