Her face was very pale and her lips
quivered as she spoke to him.
"Good morning, Mr. Forster. You will be surprised to see me, but knowing
you are the family solicitor, I called to ask you if this shocking story
about Mr. Carruthers is true."
"Heaven have mercy on me this day," thought the lawyer, "my soul is
steeped in lies."
"Certainly not, Lady Northdown. Mr. Carruthers is abroad. The fact of
the matter is, the prisoner resembles him, as a vile caricature does, at
times, resemble the original, and some would-be wag who saw it, thought
the writing of this absurd paragraph a great joke."
"He deserves shooting," said my lady, angrily.
"That may be his fate, when Mr. Carruthers catches him," was the grim
reply.
"I told Lord Northdown it was all nonsense," she continued. "I am much
obliged to you for your kindness, Mr. Forster."
There was a rustle of silken robes, a stirring of sweet perfume, and
then Lady Northdown was gone, only to be succeeded by another and
another, until the lawyer gave himself up for lost on account of the
many falsehoods he had told.
"Tomorrow my contradiction will set all this straight," he thought;
"especially if it be followed by a letter from my lady, and I must
compel her to write. I would as soon try to drive wild oxen as to
persuade a Carruthers."
He was not able to start for Ulverston until the end of the afternoon.
It was full two hours' ride by rail from London, and all the way there
the lawyer was worrying himself with conjectures, and trying to solve
what he thought honestly the greatest mystery he had ever known.
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