“Born Armour?”
“Yes, sir.”
“By heaven!” said the baronet to himself, “I see it all now! That terrible nurse was one of the family—and carried him away because she didn't like the look of my lady! Don't I wish I had had half her insight! Perhaps she was cousin to Robina—perhaps her own sister! Simon, the villain, will know all about it!” He sat silent for a moment.
“Hm!—Now tell me, you young rascal,” he said, “why didn't you put in a claim for yourself instead of those confounded Mansons?”
“Why should I, sir? I didn't want anything. I have all I desire—except a little more strength to work, and that is coming.”
The baronet kept gazing at him with the strangest look on his wicked, handsome old face.
“There is something you should have asked me for!” he said at length, in a gentler tone.
“What is that, sir?”
“Your rights. You have a claim upon me before anyone else in the whole world!—I like you, too,” he went on in yet gentler tone, with a touch of mockery in it. Apparently he still hesitated to commit himself. “I must do something for you!”
His son could contain himself no longer.