gentleman who
heard me give the order, and who saw that I was going alone, informed
me that he lived in the neighbourhood of Knowlesbury, and asked if I
would have any objection to his getting home by sharing the fly with
me. I accepted his proposal as a matter of course.

Our conversation during the drive was naturally occupied by the one
absorbing subject of local interest.

My new acquaintance had some knowledge of the late Sir Percival's
solicitor, and he and Mr. Merriman had been discussing the state of the
deceased gentleman's affairs and the succession to the property. Sir
Percival's embarrassments were so well known all over the county that
his solicitor could only make a virtue of necessity and plainly
acknowledge them. He had died without leaving a will, and he had no
personal property to bequeath, even if he had made one, the whole
fortune which he had derived from his wife having been swallowed up by
his creditors. The heir to the estate (Sir Percival having left no
issue) was a son of Sir Felix Glyde's first cousin, an officer in
command of an East Indiaman. He would find his unexpected inheritance
sadly encumbered, but the property would recover with time, and, if
"the captain" was careful, he might be a rich man yet before he died.

Absorbed as I was in the one idea of getting to London, this
information (which events proved to be perfectly correct) had an
interest of its own to attract my attention. I thought it justified me
in keeping secret my discovery of Sir Percival's fraud. The heir,
whose rights he had usurped, was the heir who would now have the
estate. The income from it, for the last three-and-twenty years, which
should properly have been his, and which the dead man had squandered to
the last farthing, was gone beyond recall. If I spoke, my speaking
would confer advantage on no one. If I kept the secret, my silence
concealed the character of the man who had cheated Laura into marrying
him. For her sake, I wished to conceal it--for her sake, still, I tell
this story under feigned names.

I parted with my chance companion at Knowlesbury, and went at once to
the town-hall. As I had anticipated, no one was present to prosecute
the case against me--the necessary formalities were observed, and I was
discharged. On leaving the court a letter from Mr. Dawson was put into
my hand. It informed me that he was absent on professional duty, and
it reiterated the offer I had already received