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Updated: May 12, 2025
He had been a witness to Ratman's virtual admission to his imposture, and his natural interest in the discovery of his own nephew was not likely to warp his determination to see fair play for Roger. Captain Oliphant, when he heard next morning of the new arrival, by no means shared his co-trustee's satisfaction.
It was, in fact, at the instance of Miss Rosalind Oliphant that the doctor sent his message. That young lady had returned a week ago to find everything at Maxfield awry. Her father was gloomy, mysterious, and haggard. The rumour of Mr Ratman's extraordinary claims had become the common property of the village. Roger and his tutor were away, no one exactly knew where or on what errand.
For all that, he persuaded himself that duty called him thither, even if it was bad temper which drove him from Maxfield. "What has become of Ratman?" he inquired of his guardian casually during the journey. Captain Oliphant looked up from his paper sharply Mr Ratman's whereabouts had been occupying his thoughts that very moment. "I really do not know, my boy," said he.
Lock the will up in your desk again; I'll take care of the letter. Nobody but you and I shall know of their existence. And now I must go to Rosalind." Mr Ratman's business interview with his friend was short and stormy.
With all these worries upon him it was little wonder if Mr Ratman's letters hurt his feelings. He was very much inclined to throw up the sponge and vanish from the Maxfield horizon, and might have attempted the feat had not a letter which arrived on the following day suggested another way out of his difficulties. It came from America, addressed to the late Squire, and read thus
It was Ratman's voice the voice of the man to whom he owed money, who held the secret of his crime, who claimed his villainy and who could say? might even have to be pacified with a human sacrifice. He shook her off rudely and said in dry, hard tones "Rosalind, I am disappointed in you. I will not discuss the matter with you. You know my wish; I expect you to obey me." And he left the room.
What relation were you to the old Squire?" "Was I is he dead, then?" "More than a year ago." "Sir," said the stranger, with some excitement, "that man was my sister's husband. I guess I've come here a trifle late. Dead? He didn't look to have it in him. What say?" It said a good deal for Mr Ratman's nerve that in the tutor's presence he took upon himself to reply boldly
Here, for instance, is a letter the doting father received from his son and heir a week after Ratman's arrival. "Dear Pater, Isn't it fizzing that old Roger is pretty nearly out of the wood? The fever's come down like anything, and he's getting quite chirpy. I can't fancy how a chap can hang on at all with nothing to eat but milk. It wouldn't fill up my chinks.
Ratman tried hard to copy his adversary's composure, but failed miserably. With many imprecations, and, heedless of the tutor's maimed condition, he threw himself upon him. But Robert Ratman's boxing, like his running, was a trifle out of date, and once more he found himself on his back regarding the clouds as they flitted by overhead. This time the tutor assumed the initiative.
Pleased to know you, sir. Pity you weren't with us last night to see the decline and fall of your ingenious friend, R. Ratman. Your colleague, sir, put that young man to bed in a way that would have made you enjoy yourself. Seems to me, captain, you are well rid of him." "I fail to understand all this," said the captain. "If you refer to Mr Ratman's claims to be the lost Roger Ingleton "
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