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"For long?"
"For many years."
"My honorable opponent has hinted that there is a mystery hanging about this man. He even hazards a guess that his name may not be Clifford Heath. Do you know aught of this mystery?"
"I do."
"Does the prisoner bear a name not his own?"
"He does not bear his own name entire."
"Mr. Heathercliffe, who is this man who calls himself Doctor Clifford Heath?"
"He is _Sir Clifford Heathercliffe_, and my elder brother."
CHAPTER XLII.
A TORTURED WITNESS.
There is a profound sensation in the court room.
Constance Wardour catches her breath, and bends forward to look at her lover, the color coming and going hotly in her cheeks. She had chosen to hear nothing of his past, and so Mr. O'Meara has introduced the Honorable George Heathercliffe, that morning, saying only: "A most important witness, Constance; a _strong_ witness."
"He is Sir Clifford Heathercliffe, and my elder brother."
Mr. Rand, the prosecuting attorney, moves uneasily in his seat, and begins to wonder what small shot O'Meara holds back of this big sh.e.l.l.
Without seeming to notice the sensation created by his self-possessed witness, O'Meara goes on rapidly.
"How long has your brother, Sir Clifford Heathercliffe, been in America?"
"For more than three years."
"Until you received the telegram calling you to his aid, did you know where to find your brother?"
"I did not."
"Mr. Heathercliffe, have you that telegram in your possession?"
"I have."
"Will you permit his honor, the judge, to see that telegram?"
"a.s.suredly." He draws forth a morocco letter case, and taking therefrom a slip of paper hands it to O'Meara. That astute gentleman pa.s.ses it carelessly on to the clerk, saying: "Read it please."
Rising to receive the paper, the clerk reads:
_Honorable George Heathercliffe, Cliffe Towers, etc., etc.,_
Come at once to W----, R---- County.---- Sir Clifford is in deep trouble.
BATHURST.
"Bathurst!" the name falls involuntarily from the lips of Mr. Rand; he knows the expert by reputation, and this is the first intimation he has received, that so shrewd a man is at work in the interest of Clifford Heath.
"Is this the only message you received?"
"No, later in the day this came."
He produced and pa.s.sed over a second dispatch, which is read like the first.
_Honorable George Heathercliffe, etc._
Before starting find out everything you can concerning one John, or Jonathan Burrill, once in the employ of your father.
BATHURST.
The two Lamottes glance uneasily at each other. Whither is this examination tending?
"Did you follow the instructions in this last telegram?" asks O'Meara.
"I did."
A bland smile widens the mouth of the little Irish lawyer. He waves his hand magisterially.
"That is all, for the present, Mr. Heathercliffe," he says, suavely, and amazement sits on every countenance.
And now Mr. Rand bends forward and flings himself into the arena, while O'Meara leans back in his chair, his eyes twinkling maliciously.
"Mr. Heathercliffe," begins the cross-examiner, "Your two dispatches are signed 'Bathurst.' Who is this Bathurst?"
"Mr. Bathurst, sir, is a very able detective."
"Ah! He is known to you, I presume?"
"He is," bowing gravely.
"Now, Mr. Heathercliffe, it strikes me as singular that an English gentleman should be on such familiar terms with a Yankee detective; and still more strange that an English n.o.bleman should be masquerading in America, as a country physician. I should like an explanation of these things."
"My brother came to America on account of family troubles, sir. Is it _necessary_ that I make a fuller statement?"
He asks this hesitatingly, and Mr. Rand fancies that he sees a point to be gained. He does not see that O'Meara is struggling to conceal the smile of satisfaction that _will_ creep into his face.
"_I_ consider it necessary, sir. It is high time that we knew why we have been honored by this _incognito_--n.o.bleman."