Every eye,
especially the observant eyes on the bench, were fixed on the witness,
who now looked considerably ruffled. He glanced at Methley--but Methley
sat with averted look and made no sign; he looked at the magistrate; the
magistrate, it was plain, expected the question to be answered. And the
answer came, almost sullenly.
"Yes, I am!"
"That is to say, you are really--or you claim to be really--the Lord
Marketstoke who disappeared from England some thirty-five years ago, and
you have now returned, though you are legally presumed to be dead, to
assert your rights to titles and estates? You absolutely claim to be the
ninth Earl of Ellingham?"
"Yes!"
"Where have you been during the last thirty-five years?"
"In Australia."
"What part?"
"Chiefly in Melbourne. But I was for four or five years up-country."
"What name did you go under there?"
Mr. Pawle, Mr. Carless and the rest of the spectators who were in these
secrets regarded the witness with keen attention when this question was
put to him. But his answer came promptly.
"At first, under the name of Wickham. Later under the one I now
use--Cave.
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