Dino bowed his head.

Percival puffed away at his pipe for a minute or two, and surveyed him from head to foot with angry, contemptuous eyes. The only thing that prevented him from letting loose a storm of rage upon Dino's head was the young man's air of grave simplicity and good faith. He did not look like an intentional impostor, such as Percival Heron would gladly have believed him to be.

"Do you know," inquired Heron, after a momentary pause, "what the penalties are for attempting to extort money, or for passing yourself off under a false name in order to get property? Did you ever hear of the Claimant and Portland Prison? I would advise you to acquaint yourself with these details before you come to me again. You may be more fool than knave; but you may carry your foolery or your knavery elsewhere."

Dino smiled.

"You had better hear the rest of my story before you indulge in these idle threats, Mr. Heron. I know perfectly well what I am doing."

There was a tone of lofty assurance, almost of superiority, in Dino's calm voice, which galled Percival, because he felt that it had the power of subduing him a little. Before he had thought of a rejoinder, the young Benedictine resumed his story.

"You will say rightly enough that these were not proofs. So Padre Cristoforo said when he kept me in the monastery until I came to years of discretion. So he told Brian Luttrell when he came to San Stefano.

But since that day new witnesses have arisen. Vincenza Vasari was not dead: she had only disappeared for a time. She is now found, and she is prepared to swear to the truth of the story that I have told you. Mrs.

Luttrell's suspicions, the statement made by Vincenza's husband and mother, the confession of another woman who was Vincenza's accomplice, all form corroborative evidence which will, I think, be quite sufficient to prove the case. So, at least, Messrs. Brett and Grattan assure me, and they have gone carefully into the matter, and have the original papers in their possession."

"Brett and Grattan!" repeated Percival. He knew the names. "Do you say that Brett and Grattan have taken it up? You must have managed matters cleverly: Brett and Grattan are a respectable firm."

"You are at liberty, of course, to question them. You may, perhaps, credit their statement."

"I will certainly go to them and expose this imposture," said Percival, haughtily. "I suppose you have no objection," with a hardly-concealed sneer, "to go with me to them at once?"

"Not in the least. I am quite ready."

Percival was rather staggered by his willingness to accompany him. He laid down his pipe, which he had been holding mechanically for some time in his hand, and made a step towards the door. But as he reached it Dino spoke again.

"I wish, Mr. Heron, that before you go to these lawyers you would listen to me a little longer. If for a moment or two you would divest yourself of your suspicions, if you would for a moment or two assume (only for the sake of argument) the truth of my story, I could tell you then why I came. As yet, I have scarcely approached the object of my errand."

"Money, I suppose!" said Percival. "Truth will out, sooner or later."

"Mr. Heron," said Dino, "are we to approach this subject as gentlemen or not? When I ask you for money, you will be at liberty to insult me, not before."

Again that tone of quiet superiority! Percival broke out angrily:--

"I will listen to nothing more from you. If you like to go with me to Brett and Grattan, we will go now; if not, you are a liar and an impostor, and I shall be happy to kick you out into the street."

Dino raised his head; a quick, involuntary movement ran through his frame, as if it thrilled with anger at the insulting words. Then his head sank; he quietly folded his arms across his breast, and stood as he used to stand when awaiting an order or an admonition from the Prior--tranquil, submissive, silent, but neither ill-humoured nor depressed. The very silence and submission enraged Percival the more.

"If you were of Scotch or English blood," he said, sharply, pausing as he crossed the room to look over his shoulder at the motionless figure in the black robe, with folded arms and bent head, "you would resent the words I have hastily used. That you don't do so is proof positive to my mind that you are no Luttrell."

"If I am a Luttrell, I trust that I am a Christian, too," said Dino, tranquilly. "It is a monk's duty--a monk's privilege--to bear insult."

"Detestable hypocrisy!" growled Percival to himself, as he stepped to the door and ostentatiously locked it, putting the key into his pocket, before he went into the adjoining bed-room to change his coat. "We'll soon see what Brett and Grattan say to him. Confound the fellow! Who would think that that smooth saintly face covered so much insolence! I should like to give him a good hiding. I should, indeed."

He returned to the sitting-room, unlocked the door, and ordered a servant to fetch a hansom-cab. Then he occupied himself by setting some of the books straight on the shelves, humming a tune to himself meanwhile, as if nobody else were in the room.

"Mr. Heron," Dino said at last, "I came to propose a compromise. Will you listen to it yet?"

"No," said Percival, drily. "I'll listen to nothing until I have seen Brett. If your case is as good as you declare it is, he will convince me; and then you can talk about compromises. I'm not in the humour for compromises just now."

He noticed that Dino's eyes were fixed earnestly upon something on his writing-table. He drew near enough to see that it was a cabinet photograph of Elizabeth Murray in a brass frame--a likeness which had just been taken, and which was considered remarkably good. The head and shoulders only were seen: the stately pose of the head, the slightly upturned profile, the rippling mass of hair resting on the fine shoulders, round which a shawl had been loosely draped--these constituted the chief points of a portrait which some people said was "idealised," but which, in the opinion of the Herons, only showed Elizabeth at her best. Percival coolly took up the photograph and marched away with it to another table, on which he laid it face downwards. He did not choose to have the Italian impostor scrutinising Elizabeth Murray's face. Dino understood the action, and liked him for it better than he had done as yet.

The drive to Messrs. Brett and Grattan's office was accomplished in perfect silence. The office was just closing, but Mr. Brett--the partner with whom Percival happened to be acquainted--was there, and received the visitors very civilly.

"You seem to know this--this gentleman, Mr. Brett?" began Percival, somewhat stiffly.

"I think I have that pleasure," said Mr. Brett, who was a big, red-faced, genial-looking man, as much unlike the typical lawyer of the novel and the stage, as a fox-hunting squire would have been. But Mr.

Brett's reputation was assured. "I think I have that pleasure," he repeated, rubbing his hands, and looking as though he was enjoying the interview very much. "I have seen him before once or twice, have I not?

eh, Mr.--er--Mr.----"

"Ah, that is just the point," said Percival. "Will you have the goodness to tell me the name of this--this person?"

Mr. Brett stopped rubbing his hands, and looked from Dino to Percival, and back again to Dino. The look said plainly enough, "What shall I tell him? How much does he know?"

"I wish to have no secrets from Mr. Heron," said Dino, simply. "He is the gentleman who is going to marry Miss Elizabeth Murray, and, of course, he is interested in the matter."

"Ah, of course, of course. I don't know that you ought to have brought him here," said Mr. Brett, shaking his head waggishly at Dino. "Against rules, you know: against custom: against precedent. But I believe you want to arrange matters pleasantly amongst yourselves. Well, Mr. Heron, I don't often like to commit myself to a statement, but, under the circumstances, I have no hesitation in saying that I believe this gentleman now before you, who called himself Vasari in Italy, is in reality----"

"Well?" said Percival, feeling his heart sink within him and speaking more impatiently than usual in consequence, "Well, Mr. Brett?"

"Is in reality," said Mr. Brett, with great deliberation and emphasis, "the second son of Edward and Margaret Luttrell, stolen from them in infancy--Brian Luttrell."

CHAPTER XXIX.

DINO'S PROPOSITION.

Dino turned away. He would not see the discomfiture plainly depicted upon Percival's face. Mr. Brett smiled pleasantly, and rubbed his hands.

"I see that it's a shock to you, Mr. Heron," he said. "Well, we can understand that. It's natural. Of course you thought Miss Murray a rich woman, as we all did, and it is a little disappointing----"

"Your remarks are offensive, sir, most offensive," said Percival, whose ire was thoroughly roused by this address. "I will bid you and your client good-evening. I have no more to say."

He made for the door, but Dino interposed.

"It is my turn now, I think, Mr. Heron. You insisted upon my coming here: I must insist now upon your seeing the documents I have to show you, and hearing what I have to say." And with a sharp click he turned the key in the lock, and stood with his back against the door.

"Tut, tut, tut!" said Mr. Brett; "there is no need to lock the door, no need of violence, Mr. Luttrell." In spite of himself, Percival started when he heard that name applied to the young monk before him. "Let the matter be settled amicably, by all means. You come from the young lady; you have authority to act for her, have you, Mr. Heron?"

"No," said Percival, sullenly. "She knows nothing about it."

"This is an informal interview," said Dino. "Mr. Heron refused to believe that you had undertaken my case, Mr. Brett, until he heard the fact from your own lips. I trust that he is now satisfied on that point, at any rate."

"Mr. Brett is an old acquaintance of mine. I have no reason to doubt his sincerity," said Percival, shortly and stiffly.

If Dino had hoped for anything like an apology, he was much mistaken.