"Here, in fact, in London!"
Mr. Pawle smiled too. But his smile was not grim--it was, rather, the
smile of a man who hears what he has been expecting to hear.
"I thought it would be something of that sort!" he exclaimed. "Aye, I
fancied that would be the game!"
"You think it a game?" suggested Mr. Carless.
"And a highly dangerous one--as somebody will find out," responded Mr.
Pawle. "But--what did these fellows really say!"
"His lordship will correct me if I miss anything pertinent," answered Mr.
Carless with a glance at his client. "They said this--that they had been
called upon by a gentleman now staying at one of the private residential
hotels in Lancaster Gate, who was desirous of legal assistance in an
important matter and had been recommended to them by a fellow-boarder at
the hotel. He then told them that though he was now passing under the
name of Cave--"
"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Pawle, with a snort which denoted a certain sort of
surprised satisfaction. "Ah, to be sure! Cave, of course! But I interrupt
you--pray proceed."
"I see your point," remarked Mr. Carless with a smile. "Well--although he
was passing under the name of Cave, he was, in strict reality, the Lord
Marketstoke who disappeared from England many years ago, who was never
heard of again, and whose death had been presumed.
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