Corbet then thanked him, and was about to go, when the other said, “Corbet!” after which he paused for some time.

“Sir!” said Corbet.

“I wish to ask your opinion,” he proceeded, “as to allowing my son to be present.  He himself wishes it, and asked my consent; but as his sister entertains such an unaccountable prejudice against him, I had doubts as to whether he ought to appear at all.  There are, also, as you know, other reasons.”

“I don’t see any reason, sir, that ought to exclude him the moment the marriage words are pronounced.  I think, sir, with humility, that it is not only his right, but his duty, to be present, and that it is a very proper occasion for you to acknowledge him openly.”

“It would be a devilish good hit at Dunroe, for, between you and me, Corbet, I fear that his heart is fixed more upon the Gourlay estates and her large fortune than upon the girl herself.”

If I might advise, sir, I think he ought to be present.”

“And the moment the ceremony is over, be introduced to his brother-in-law.  A good hit.  I shall do it.  Send word to him, then, Corbet.  As it must be done some time, it may as well be done now.  Dunroe will of course be too much elated, as he ought to be, to feel the blow—­or to appear to feel it, at all events—­for decency’s sake, you know, he must keep up appearances; and if it were only on that account, we will avail ourselves of the occasion which presents itself.  This is another point gained.  I think I may so ‘Bravo!’ Corbet:  I have managed everything admirably, and accomplished all my purposes single-handed.”

Thomas Corbet himself, deep and cunning as he was, yet knew not how much he had been kept in the dark as to the events of this fateful day.  He had seen his father the day before, as had his sister, and they both felt surprised at the equivocal singularity of his manner, well and. thoroughly as they imagined they had known him.  It was, in fact, at his suggestion that the baronet’s son had been induced to ask permission to be present at the wedding, and also to be then and there acknowledged; a fact which the baronet either forgot or omitted to mention to Corbet.  Anthony also insisted that his daughter should make one of the spectators, under pain of disclosing to Sir Thomas the imposition that had been practised on him in the person of her son.  Singular as it may appear, this extraordinary old man, in the instance before us, moved, by his peculiar knowledge and sagacity, as if he had them on wires, almost every person with whom he came in contact, or whose presence he considered necessary on the occasion.

“What can he mean?” said Thomas to his sister.  “Surely he would not be mad enough to make Sir Thomas’s house the place in which to produce Lady Gourlay’s son, the very individual who is to strip him of his title, and your son of all his prospects?”

“Oh no,” replied Ginty, “certainly not; otherwise, why have lent himself to the carrying out of our speculation with respect to that boy.  Such a step would ruin him—­ruin us all—­but then it would ruin the man he hates, and that would gratify him, I know.  He is full of mystery, certainly; but as he will disclose nothing as to his movements, we must just let him have his own way, as that is the only chance of managing him.”