“And I came here after wandering about, trying to find it. I heard at last that there was a place that used to be Brandon Hall, though most people call it Potts Hall. Now, I thought, my fine young man, I’ll catch you; for I’ll call on Sir John himself and ask him.” “You did right, Sir,” said Potts, who had taken an intense interest in this narrative. “I’m the very man you ought to have come to. I can tell you all you want. This Brandon is a miserable swindler.” “Good! I thought so. You’ll give me that, Sir John, over your own name, will you?” cried Brandon, in great apparent excitement. “Of course I will,” said Potts, “and a good deal more. But tell me, first, what that young devil said as to how he got to Cincinnati? How did he find his way there?” “He would never tell.” “What became of his mother and sister?” “He wouldn’t say.” “All I know,” said Potts, “is this. I got official information that they all died at Quebec.” Brandon looked suddenly at the floor and gasped. In a moment he had recovered. “Curse him! then this fellow is an impostor?” “No,” said Potts, “he must have escaped. It’s possible. There was some confusion at Quebec about names.” “Then his name may really be Frank Brandon?” “It must be,” said Potts. “Anyhow, the others are all right.” “Are what?” “All right; dead you know. That’s why he don’t like to tell you about them.” “Well, now, Sir John, could you tell me what you know about this young man, since you think he must be the same one?” “I know he must be, and I’ll tell you all about him and the whole cursed lot. In the first place,” continued Potts, clearing his throat, “old Brandon was one of the cursedest old fools that ever lived. He was very well off but wanted to get richer, and so he speculated in a tin mine in Cornwall. I was acquainted with him at the time and used to respect him. He persuaded me--I was always off-handed about money, and a careless, easy fellow--he persuaded me to invest in it also. I did so, but at the end of a few years I found out that the tin mine was a rotten concern, and sold out. I sold at a very high price, for people believed it was a splendid property. After this I found another mine and made money hand over fist. I warned old Brandon, and so did every body, but he didn’t care a fig for what we said, and finally, one fine morning, he waked up and found himself ruined.