"Is a spy of King James's. He is the messenger who bore my father that letter from the Pretender, and he would no doubt have carried back the answer had my father lived."Mr. Templeton drew a paper from his pocket, and crossed to the desk. He sat down, and took up a quill. "You can prove this, of course?" he said, testing the point of his quill upon his thumb-nail.
"Abundantly," was the ready answer. "My mother can bear witness to the fact that 'twas he brought the Pretender's letter, and there is no lack of corroboration. Enough, Ithink, would be afforded by the assault made by this rogue upon Mr. Green, of which, no doubt, you are already informed, sir. His object - this proved object - was to possess himself of those papers that he might destroy them. I but caught him in time, as my servants can bear witness, as they can also bear witness to the circumstance that we were compelled to force an entrance here, and to use force to him to obtain the letters from him."Mr. Templeton nodded. "'Tis a clear case, then," said he, and dipped his pen.
"And yet," put in Mr. Caryll, in an indolent, musing voice, "it might be made to look as clear another way."Mr. Templeton scowled at him. "The opportunity shall be afforded you," said he. "Meanwhile - what is your name?"Mr. Caryll looked whimsically at the secretary a moment; then flung his bomb. "I am Justin Caryll, Sixth Earl of Ostermore, and your very humble servant, Mr. Secretary."The effect was ludicrous - from Mr. Caryll's point of view -and yet it was disappointing. Five pairs of dilating eyes confronted him, five gaping mouths. Then her ladyship broke into a laugh.
"The creature's mad - I've long suspected it." And she meant to be taken literally; his many whimsicalities were explained to her at last. He was, indeed, half-witted, as he now proved.
Mr. Templeton, recovering, smote the table angrily. He thought he had good reason to lose his self-control on this occasion, though it was a matter of pride with him that he could always preserve an unruffled calm under the most trying circumstances. "What is your name, sir?" he demanded again.
"You are hard of hearing, sir, I think. I am Lord Ostermore.
Set down that name in the warrant if you are determined to be bubbled by that fellow there and made to look foolish afterwards with my Lord Carteret."Mr. Templeton sat back in his chair, frowning; but more from utter bewilderment now than anger.
"Perhaps," said Mr. Caryll, "if I were to explain, it would help you to see the imposture that is being practiced upon you. As for the allegations that have been made against me -that I am a Jacobite spy and an agent of the Pretender's - "He shrugged, and waved an airy hand. "I scarce think there will remain the need for me to deny them when you have heard the rest."Rotherby took a step forward, his face purple, his hands clenched. Her ladyship thrust out a bony claw, clutched at his sleeve, and drew him back and into the chair beside her.
"Pho! Charles," she said; "give the fool rope, and he'll hang himself, never doubt it - the poor, witless creature."Mr. Caryll sauntered over to the secretaire, and leaned an elbow on the top of it, facing all in the room.
"I admit, Mr. Secretary," said he, "that I had occasion to assault Mr. Green, to the end that I might possess myself of the papers he was seeking in this desk.""Why, then - " began Mr. Templeton.
"Patience, sir! I admit so much, but I admit no more. I do not, for instance, admit that the object - the object itself -of my search was such as has been represented.""What then? What else?" growled Rotherby.
"Ay, sir - what else?" quoth Mr. Templeton.
"Sir," said Mr. Caryll, with a sorrowful shake of, the head, "I have already startled you, it seems, by one statement. Ibeg that you will prepare yourself to be startled by another."Then he abruptly dropped his languor. "I should think twice, sir," he advised, "before signing that warrant, were I in your place, to do so would be to render yourself the tool of those who are plotting my ruin, and ready to bear false witness that they may accomplish it. I refer," and he waved a hand towards the countess and his brother, "to the late Lord Ostermore's mistress and his natural son, there."In their utter stupefaction at the unexpectedness and seeming wildness of the statement, neither mother nor son could find a word to say. No more could Mr. Templeton for a moment. Then, suddenly, wrath fully: "What are you saying, sir?" he roared.
"The truth, sir."
"The truth?" echoed the secretary.
"Ay, sir - the truth. Have ye never heard of it?"Mr. Templeton sat back again. "I begin to think," said he, surveying through narrowing eyes the slender graceful figure before him, "that her ladyship is right that you are mad;unless - unless you are mad of the same madness that beset Ulysses. You remember?""Let us have done," cried Rotherby in a burst of anger, leaping to his feet. "Let us have done, I say! Are we to waste the day upon this Tom o' Bedlam? Write him down as Caryll - Justin Caryll - 'tis the name he's known by; and let Green see to the rest."Mr. Templeton made an impatient sound, and poised his pen.
"Ye are not to suppose, sir," Mr. Caryll stayed him, "that Icannot support my statements. I have by me proofs -irrefragable proofs of what I say."
"Proofs?" The word seemed to come from, every, member of that little assembly - if we except Mr. Green, whose face was beginning to betray his uneasiness. He was not so ready as the others to believe, that Mr. Caryll was mad. For him, the situation asked some other explanation.
"Ay - proofs," said Mr. Caryll. He had drawn the case from his pocket again. From this he took the birth-certificate, and placed it before Mr. Templeton, "Will you glance at that, sir - to begin, with? - "Mr. Templeton complied. His face became more and more grave.
He looked at Mr. Caryll; then at Rotherby, who was scowling, and at her ladyship, who was breathing hard. His glance returned to Mr. Caryll.
"You are the person designated here?" he inquired.
