‘Well, gentlemen?’ inquired Mr. Erin with mock humility—a mere pretence of submission to a possible adverse opinion. ‘What say you, my dear Sir Frederick, what is your verdict?’
He had appealed to one Sir Frederick Eden, a Shakespearean critic of no mean distinction, and who, being the only titled person present, might naturally be considered as the foreman of the jury.
‘It is my opinion, Mr. Erin,’ replied that gentleman with great solemnity, ‘that this most interesting document is valid.’
A hushed murmur of corroboration and applause broke from the little throng. ‘That is my view also,’ said one; ‘And mine,’ ‘And mine,’ added other voices.
If Mr. Erin had just been elected King of Great Britain and Ireland (with the Empire of India thrown in by anticipation), and was receiving the first act of allegiance from the representatives of the nation, he could not have looked more gratified and serene.
‘That is certainly the conclusion,’ he observed with modesty, ‘which I myself have arrived at.’
Then he told how William Henry had become possessed of the document, a narration which redoubled their interest and excitement.
‘Sir,’ said Sir Frederick with emotion, ‘I felicitate you on the possession of such a son.’
There were reasons, as we know, which made this congratulation a mere matter of compliment, and, up to this time, by no means an acceptable one; but it was with no little pride and satisfaction that Mr. Erin now acknowledged it.
‘He is a good lad,’ he said, ‘a discreet and well-ordered lad: and, of course, it is very gratifying to me that he has found favour in the eyes of this gentleman—whoever he may be—to whom we are indebted for this—this manifestation.’
It was a strange word to use, but, under the circumstances, not an inappropriate one. To Mr. Samuel Erin the occurrence in question seemed indeed little less than a miracle, and William Henry the instrument through which it had been vouchsafed to his wondering eyes.
‘What we have to consider,’ he continued, dropping his voice in hushed solemnity, ‘is that, in all probability, other papers connected with the immortal bard may be produced from the same source.’
The company nodded their wigs in unison. It was as though in their mind’s eye a dish of peaches had been placed on the table before them; their very mouths watered.