Then a
thought occurred to him.
"Would you settle this case if they offered you something?" he
said.
"I'll do whatever you say," said Peggy, rising. "'Tis for you to
say what I ought to do. 'Tis not for the like of me, that is no
scholar."
"Leave it to me," said Blake. "I'll do what is best for you. Send
Martin Doyle in to see me, Martin that was the witness. And about
this copy of the certificate, tell Mick to bring it in here. Now
you go home, and don't you say to one living soul one word of what
has passed in here. Tell them you are going on with the case, but
don't say any more, or you may land yourself in gaol. Do you hear
me?"
And the cowed and flustered Peggy hurried away to join her brother,
who was far too wise to ask questions.
"Least said soonest mended," he said, when told that Blake required
silence.
After his clients had gone, Gavan Blake sat for half an hour almost
dazed. If Peggy's story was true, then Mary Grant was an outcast
instead of a great heiress. And while he had become genuinely fond
of her (which he never was of Ellen Harriott), he had no idea of
asking her to share his debts with him. He puzzled over the affair
for a long time, and at last his clear brain saw a way out of all
difficulties. He would go over to the old station, put the whole
case before Mary Grant, and induce her for peace' sake to give
Peggy money to withdraw her claim.
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