'I have already accounted for that,' said Brotherton. 'I will leave it to yourself to decide whether the description corresponds.'

Sir Giles read out the number figure by figure, adding--

'But how are we to test the description? I don't know the thing, and it's not here.'

'It is at the Moat,' I replied; 'but its future place is at Sir Giles's decision.'

'Part of the description belongs to the scabbard you have in your hand, sir,' said Brotherton. 'The description of the sword itself I submit to Mr c.u.mbermede.'

'Till the other day I never saw the blade,' I said.

'Likely enough,' he retorted dryly, and proceeding, read the description of the half-basket hilt, inlaid with gold, and the broad blade, channeled near the hilt, and inlaid with ornaments and initials in gold.

'There is nothing in all that about the scabbard,' said his father.

'Stop till we come to the history,' he replied, and read on, as nearly as I can recall, to the following effect. I have never had an opportunity of copying the words themselves.

'"This sword seems to have been expressly forged for Sir [----]

[----],"' (He read it _Sir So and So_.) '"whose initials are to be found on the blade. According to tradition, it was worn by him, for the first and only time, at the battle of Naseby, where he fought in the cavalry led by Sir Marmaduke Langdale. From some accident or other, Sir [----] [----] found, just as the order to charge was given, that he could not draw his sword, and had to charge with only a pistol in his hand. In the flight which followed he pulled up, and unbuckled his sword, but while attempting to ease it, a rush of the enemy startled him, and, looking about, he saw a Roundhead riding straight at Sir Marmaduke, who that moment pa.s.sed in the rear of his retiring troops--giving some directions to an officer by his side, and unaware of the nearness of danger. Sir [----] [----] put spurs to his charger, rode at the trooper, and dealt him a downright blow on the pot-helmet with his sheathed weapon. The fellow tumbled from his horse, and Sir [----] [----] found his scabbard split halfway up, but the edge of his weapon unturned. It is said he vowed it should remain sheathed for ever."--The person who has now unsheathed it has done a great wrong to the memory of a loyal cavalier.'

'The sheath halfway split was as familiar to my eyes as the face of my uncle,' I said, turning to Sir Giles. 'And in the only reference I ever heard my great-grandmother make to it, she mentioned the name of Sir Marmaduke. I recollect that much perfectly.'

'But how could the sword be there and here at one and the same time?'

said Sir Giles.

'_That_ I do not pretend to explain,' I said.

'Here at least is written testimony to our possession of it,' said Brotherton in a conclusive tone.

'How, then, are we to explain Mr c.u.mbermede's story?' said Sir Giles, evidently in good faith.

'With that I cannot consent to allow myself concerned.--Mr c.u.mbermede is, I am told, a writer of fiction.'

'Geoffrey,' said Sir Giles, 'behave yourself like a gentleman.'

'I endeavour to do so,' he returned with a sneer.

I kept silence.

'How can you suppose,' the old man went on, 'that Mr c.u.mbermede would invent such a story? What object could he have?'

'He may have a mania for weapons, like old Close--as well as for old books,' he replied.

I thought of my precious folio. But I did not yet know how much additional force his insinuation with regard to the motive of my labours in the library would gain if it should be discovered that such a volume was in my possession.

'You may have remarked, sir,' he went on, 'that I did not read the name of the owner of the sword in any place where it occurred in the ma.n.u.script.'

'I did. And I beg to know why you kept it back,' answered Sir Giles.

'What do you think the name might be, sir?'

'How should I know? I am not an antiquarian.'

'Sir _Wilfrid c.u.mbermede_. You will find the initials on the blade.--Does that throw any light on the matter, do you think, sir?'

'Why, that is your very own name!' cried Sir Giles, turning to me.

I bowed.

'It is a pity the sword shouldn't be yours.'

'It is mine, Sir Giles--though, as I said, I am prepared to abide by your decision.'

'And now I remember;--the old man resumed, after a moment's thought--'the other evening Mr Alderforge--a man of great learning, Mr c.u.mbermede--told us that the name of c.u.mbermede had at one time belonged to our family. It is all very strange. I confess I am utterly bewildered.'

'At least you can understand, sir, how a man of imagination, like Mr c.u.mbermede here, might desire to possess himself of a weapon which bears his initials, and belonged two hundred years ago to a baronet of the same name as himself--a circ.u.mstance which, notwithstanding it is by no means a common name, is not _quite_ so strange as at first sight appears--that is, if all reports are true.'

I did not in the least understand his drift; neither did I care to inquire into it now.

'Were you aware of this, Mr c.u.mbermede?' asked his father.

'No, Sir Giles,' I answered.

'Mr c.u.mbermede has had the run of the place for weeks. I am sorry I was not at home. This book was lying all the time on the table in the room above, where poor old Close's work-bench and polishing-wheel are still standing.'

'Mr Brotherton, this gets beyond bearing,' I cried. 'Nothing but the presence of your father, to whom I am indebted for much kindness, protects you.'

'Tut! tut!' said Sir Giles.

'Protects me, indeed!' exclaimed Brotherton. 'Do you dream I should be by any code bound to accept a challenge from you?--Not, at least, I presume to think, before a jury had decided on the merits of the case.'

My blood was boiling, but what could I do or say? Sir Giles rose, and was about to leave the room, remarking only--

'I don't know what to make of it.'

'At all events, Sir Giles,' I said hurriedly, 'you will allow me to prove the truth of what I have a.s.serted. I cannot, unfortunately, call my uncle or aunt, for they are gone; and I do not know where the servant who was with us when I took the sword away is now. But, if you will allow me, I will call Mrs Wilson--to prove that I had the sword when I came to visit her on that occasion, and that on the morning after sleeping here I complained of its loss to her, and went away without it.'

'It would but serve to show the hallucination was early developed. We should probably find that even then you were much attracted by the armoury,' said Brotherton, with a judicial air, as if I were a culprit before a magistrate.

I had begun to see that, although the old man was desirous of being just, he was a little afraid of his son. He rose as the latter spoke, however, and going into the gallery, shouted over the bal.u.s.trade--

'Some one send Mrs Wilson to the library!'

We removed to the reading-room, I carrying the scabbard which Sir Giles had returned to me as soon as he had read the label. Brotherton followed, having first gone up the little turn-pike stair, doubtless to replace the ma.n.u.script.

Mrs Wilson came, looking more pinched than ever, and stood before Sir Giles with her arms straight by her sides, like one of the ladies of Noah's ark. I will not weary my reader with a full report of the examination. She had seen me _with_ a sword, but had taken no notice of its appearance. I _might_ have taken it from the armoury, for I _was_ in the library all the afternoon. She had left me there thinking I was a 'gentlemany' boy. I had _said_ I had lost it, but she was sure _she_ did not know how that could be. She was _very_ sorry she had caused any trouble by asking me to the house, but Sir Giles would be pleased to remember that he had himself introduced the boy to her notice. Little she thought, &c., &c.

In fact, the spiteful creature, propitiating her natural sense of justice by hinting instead of plainly suggesting injurious conclusions, was paying me back for my imagined partic.i.p.ation in the impertinences of Clara. She had besides, as I learned afterwards, greatly resented the trouble I had caused of late.