You have got some papers, whatever they may contain.
Suppose that it is all true that you have told me--" "Lotty, my dear, when did I ever tell you an untruth ?" "When did you ever tell me the truth, my dear?
Don't talk wild.
Suppose it is all true, how are you going to make out where your heiress has been all this time, and what she has been doing ?" "Trust me for that." "I trust you for making up something or other, but--oh, Joe, you little think, you clever people, how seldom you succeed in deceiving any one." "I've got such a story for you, Lotty, as would deceive anybody.
Listen now.

It's part truth, and part--the other thing.

Your father--" "My father, poor dear man," Lotty interrupted, "is minding his music-shop in Gloucester, and little thinking what wickedness his daughter is being asked to do." "Hang it! the girl's father, then.

He died in America, where he went under another name, and you were picked up by strangers and reared under that name, in complete ignorance of your own family.

All which is true and can be proved." "Who brought her up ?" "People in America.