There," pointing to
Matt Pattison, "is the witness. Here is a copy of the license and the
'lines.' They are signed, 'Launcelot Sandal' and 'Ducie Latrigg.'"
"Confusion!"
"Eh? No, no! There's not a bit of confusion, Mr. Sandal. It is all as
clear as the multiplication table, and there is nothing clearer than
that. Launcelot Sandal married Ducie Latrigg; they had one son, Stephen
Sandal, otherwise known as Stephen Latrigg: proofs all ready, sir, not a
link missing, Mr. Sandal. When will you vacate? The squire is inclined
to be easy with you, and not to back-reckon, unless you force him to do
so."
"This is a conspiracy, Moser."
"Conspiracy! Eh? Ugly word, Mr. Sandal. An actionable word, I may say."
"It is a conspiracy. You shall hear from me through some respectable
lawyer."
"In the mean time, Mr. Sandal, I have taken, as you will see, the proper
legal steps to prevent you wasting any more of the Sandal revenues.
Every shilling you touch now, you will be held responsible for. Also,"
and he laid another paper down, "you are hereby restrained from
removing, injuring, or in any way changing, or disposing of, the present
furniture of the Seat. The squire insists specially on this direction,
and he kindly allows you seven days to remove your private effects. A
very reasonable gentleman is Squire Sandal."
Without further courtesies they parted; and the deposed squire locked
the room-door, lifted the various documents, and read them with every
sense he had.
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