having met her since, contented himself with expressing his delight.

"In fact," continued Mr. Dingwall, clearing his throat as if he were
also clearing his conscience of a tremendous secret, "she--er--mentioned
your name. There is Sir William Dornton coming also. Sir William
has recently succeeded his elder brother, who--er--it seems, was the
gentleman you were inquiring about when you first came here, and who,
it is now ascertained, was drowned in the bay a few months ago. In
fact--er--it is probable that you were the last one who saw him alive.
I thought I would tell you," continued Mr. Dingwall, settling his chin
more comfortably in his checked cravat, "in case Sir William should
speak of him to you."

Randolph was staggered. The abrupt revelation of his benefactor's name
and fate, casually coupled with an invitation to dinner, shocked and
confounded him. Perhaps Mr. Dingwall noticed it and misunderstood the
cause, for he added in parenthetical explanation: "Yes, the man whose
portmanteau you took charge of is dead; but you did your duty, Mr.
Trent, in the matter, although the recovery of the portmanteau was
unessential to the case."

"Dead," repeated Randolph, scarcely heeding him. "But is it true? Are
they sure?"

Mr. Dingwall elevated his eyebrows. "The large property at stake of
course rendered the most satisfactory proofs of it necessary. His father
had died only a month previous, and of course they were seeking the
presumptive heir, the so-called 'Captain John Dornton'--your man--when
they made the discovery of his death."

Randolph thought of the strange body at the wharf, of the coroner's
vague verdict, and was unconvinced. "But," he said impulsively, "there
was a child." He checked himself as he remembered this was one of Miss
Avondale's confidences to him.

"Ah--Miss Avondale has spoken of a child?" said Mr. Dingwall dryly.

"I saw her with one which she said was Captain Dornton's, which had been
left in her care after the death of his wife," said Randolph in hurried
explanation.

"John Dornton had no WIFE," said Mr. Dingwall severely. "The boy is a
natural son. Captain John lived a wild, rough, and--er--an eccentric
life."

"I thought--I understood from Miss Avondale that he was married,"
stammered the young man.

"In your rather slight acquaintance with that young lady I should
imagine she would have had some delicacy in telling you otherwise,"
returned Mr. Dingwall primly.

Randolph felt