Rankin. If you think so, that's heavily against him in my
opinion, because you have more knowledge of men than anyone else
here. Perhaps I'm mistaken. I only thought you might like to help
him as the son of your old friend.
RANKIN (startled). The son of my old friend! What d'ye mean?
LADY CICELY. Oh! Didn't Sir Howard tell you that? Why, Captain
Brassbound turns out to be Sir Howard's nephew, the son of the
brother you knew.
RANKIN (overwhelmed). I saw the likeness the night he came here!
It's true: it's true. Uncle and nephew!
LADY CICELY. Yes: that's why they quarrelled so.
RANKIN (with a momentary sense of ill usage). I think Sir Howrrd
might have told me that.
LADY CICELY. Of course he OUGHT to have told you. You see he only
tells one side of the story. That comes from his training as a
barrister. You mustn't think he's naturally deceitful: if he'd
been brought up as a clergyman, he'd have told you the whole truth
as a matter of course.
RANKIN (too much perturbed to dwell on his grievance). Leddy
Ceecily: I must go to the prison and see the lad. He may have been
a bit wild; but I can't leave poor Miles's son unbefriended in a
foreign gaol.
LADY CICELY (rising, radiant). Oh, how good of you! You have a
real kind heart of gold, Mr. Rankin. Now, before you go, shall we
just put our heads together, and consider how to give Miles's son
every chance--I mean of course every chance that he ought to have.
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