Mr.
Copplestone, sir, you and me's had words in times past--I brush 'em away,
sir, like that there--the memory's departed! I desire naught but better
feelings. Happen Mr. Vickers'll repeat what's passed between him and me."
Copplestone stood rooted to the spot with amazement while Vickers hastily
epitomized the recent conversation; his mouth opened and his speech
failed him. But Audrey laughed and looked at Vickers as if Chatfield were
a new sort of entertainment.
"What do you say to this, Mr. Vickers?" she asked.
"Well, if you want to know," replied Vickers, "I believe Chatfield when
he says that he does _not_ know that the Squire is _not_ the Squire. May
seem strange, but I do! As a solicitor, I do."
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Copplestone, finding his tongue.
"You--believe that!"
"I've said so," retorted Vickers.
"Thank you, sir," said Chatfield. "I'm obliged to you. Mr. Copplestone,
sir, doesn't yet understand that there's a deal of conundrum in life.
He'll know better--some day. He'll know, too, that the poet spoke
truthful when he said that things isn't what they seem."
Copplestone turned angrily on Vickers.
"Is this a farce?" he demanded. "Good heavens, man! you know what I
told you!"
"Mr. Chatfield has a version," answered Vickers. "Why not hear it?"
"On terms, Mr. Vickers," remarked Chatfield. "On terms, sir.
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