“Aha!  I see how it is now,” cried Nowell; “you are suborned to give false testimony, knave.  I object to his attendance, Master Nicholas.”

“Nay, I think you do the man injustice,” said the squire.  “He speaks frankly and fairly enough, and seems to know his business.  The worst that can be said against him is, that he resembles somewhat too closely our little legal friend there.  That, however, ought to be no objection to you, Master Nowell, but rather the contrary.”

“Well, take the responsibility of the matter upon your own shoulders,” said Nowell; “if any ill comes of it I shall blame you.”

“Be it so,” replied the squire; “my shoulders are broad enough to bear the burthen.  You may ride with us, master reeve.”

“May I inquire your name, friend?” said Potts, as the stranger fell back to the rear of the party.

“Thomas Potts, at your service, sir,” replied the reeve.

“What!—­Thomas Potts!” exclaimed the astonished attorney.

“That is my name, sir,” replied the reeve, quietly.

“Why, zounds!” exclaimed Nicholas, who overheard the reply, “you do not mean to say your name is Thomas Potts?  This is more wonderful still.  You must be this gentleman’s twin brother.”

“The gentleman certainly seems to resemble me very strongly,” replied the reeve, apparently surprised in his turn.  “Is he of these parts?”

“No, I am not,” returned Potts, angrily, “I am from London, where I reside in Chancery-lane, and practise the law, though I likewise attend as clerk of the court at the assizes at Lancaster, where I may possibly, one of these days, have the pleasure of seeing you, my pretended namesake.”

“Possibly, sir,” said the reeve, with provoking calmness.  “I myself am from Chester, and like yourself was brought up to the law, but I abandoned my profession, or rather it abandoned me, for I had few clients; so I took to an honester calling, and became a forester, as you see.  My father was a draper in the city I have mentioned, and dwelt in Watergate-street—­his name was Peter Potts.”

“Peter Potts your father!” exclaimed the attorney, in the last state of astonishment—­“Why, he was mine!  But I am his only son.”

“Up to this moment I conceived myself an only son,” said the reeve; “but it seems I was mistaken, since I find I have an elder brother.”

“Elder brother!” exclaimed Potts, wrathfully.  “You are older than I am by twenty years.  But it is all a fabrication.  I deny the relationship entirely.”

“You cannot make me other than the son of my father,” said the reeve, with a smile.

“Well, Master Potts,” interposed Nicholas, laughing, “I see no reason why you should be ashamed of your brother.  There is a strong family likeness between you.  So old Peter Potts, the draper of Chester, was your father, eh?  I was not aware of the circumstance before—­ha, ha!”

“And, but for this intrusive fellow, you would never have become aware of it,” muttered the attorney.  “Give ear to me, squire,” he said, urging Flint close up to the other’s side, and speaking in a low tone, “I do not like the fellow’s looks at all.”