“You are very determined,” he said.  “You have, no doubt, a personal motive for proceeding, into which it is not my business to inquire.  If a case can be produced in the future, I can only say, my best assistance is at your service.  At the same time I must warn you, as the money question always enters into the law question, that I see little hope, even if you ultimately established the fact of Lady Glyde’s being alive, of recovering her fortune.  The foreigner would probably leave the country before proceedings were commenced, and Sir Percival’s embarrassments are numerous enough and pressing enough to transfer almost any sum of money he may possess from himself to his creditors.  You are of course aware——­”

I stopped him at that point.

“Let me beg that we may not discuss Lady Glyde’s affairs,” I said.  “I have never known anything about them in former times, and I know nothing of them now—­except that her fortune is lost.  You are right in assuming that I have personal motives for stirring in this matter.  I wish those motives to be always as disinterested as they are at the present moment——­”

He tried to interpose and explain.  I was a little heated, I suppose, by feeling that he had doubted me, and I went on bluntly, without waiting to hear him.

“There shall be no money motive,” I said, “no idea of personal advantage in the service I mean to render to Lady Glyde.  She has been cast out as a stranger from the house in which she was born—­ a lie which records her death has been written on her mother’s tomb—­and there are two men, alive and unpunished, who are responsible for it.  That house shall open again to receive her in the presence of every soul who followed the false funeral to the grave—­that lie shall be publicly erased from the tombstone by the authority of the head of the family, and those two men shall answer for their crime to me, though the justice that sits in tribunals is powerless to pursue them.  I have given my life to that purpose, and, alone as I stand, if God spares me, I will accomplish it.”

He drew back towards his table, and said nothing.  His face showed plainly that he thought my delusion had got the better of my reason, and that he considered it totally useless to give me any more advice.

“We each keep our opinion, Mr. Kyrle,” I said, “and we must wait till the events of the future decide between us.  In the meantime, I am much obliged to you for the attention you have given to my statement.  You have shown me that the legal remedy lies, in every sense of the word, beyond our means.  We cannot produce the law proof, and we are not rich enough to pay the law expenses.  It is something gained to know that.”

I bowed and walked to the door.  He called me back and gave me the letter which I had seen him place on the table by itself at the beginning of our interview.

“This came by post a few days ago,” he said.  “Perhaps you will not mind delivering it?  Pray tell Miss Halcombe, at the same time, that I sincerely regret being, thus far, unable to help her, except by advice, which will not be more welcome, I am afraid, to her than to you.”