t that the old fancy that he was the rightful owner of
Fording, which had been suggested to him in his Oxford days, had taken
such hold of his mind that no subsequent experience had been able to
dislodge it. Of half his parentage there was no doubt. His mother was
that Sophia Flannery who had married Yeoman Joliffe, had painted the
famous picture of the flowers and caterpillar, and done many other
things less reputable; but over his father hung a veil of obscurity
which Martin had tried all his life to lift. Westray had heard those
early stories from Clerk Janaway a dozen times, how that when Yeoman
Joliffe took Sophia to church she brought him a four-year-old son by a
former marriage. By a former _marriage_ Martin had always stoutly
maintained, as in duty bound, for any other theory would have
dishonoured himself. With his mother's honour he had little concern,
for where was the use of defending the memory of a mother who had made
shipwreck of her own reputation with soldiers and horse-copers? It was
this previous marriage that Martin had tried so hard to establish, tried
all the harder because other folk had wagged their heads and said there
was no marriage to discover, that Sophia was neither wife nor widow.

Towards the end of his notes it seemed as if he had found some clue--had
found some clue, or thought that he had found it. In this game of hunt
the slipper he had imagined that he was growing "hotter" and "hotter"
till death balked him at the finish. Westray recollected Mr Sharnall
saying more than once that Martin had been on the brink of solving the
riddle when the end overtook him. And Sharnall, too, had he not almost
grasped the Will-of-the-wisp when fate tripped _him_ on that windy
night? Many thoughts came to Westray's mind as he turned these papers,
many memories of others who had turned them before him. He thought of
clever, worthless Martin, who had wasted his days on their writing, who
had neglected home and family for their sake; he thought of the little
organist who had held them in his feverish hands, who had hoped by some
dramatic discovery to illumine the dark setting of his own life. And as
Westray read, the interest grew with him too, till it absorbed the
heraldry of the Blandamer window from which the whole matter had
started. He began to comprehend the vision that had possessed Martin,
that had so stirred the organist's feelings; he began to think that it
was reserved for himself t