ten gains? That's what I'm saying,
Portlethorpe--and I insist on my common-sense view of it!"

"And I say it's just as common-sense to insist, as I do, that it's all
capable of proper and reasonable explanation!" retorted Mr. Portlethorpe.
"You're a good hand at drawing deductions, Lindsey, but you're bad in
your premises! You start off by asking me to take something for granted,
and I'm not fond of mental gymnastics. If you'd be strictly logical--"

They went on arguing like that, one against the other, for a good hour,
and it seemed to me that the talk they were having would have gone on for
ever, indefinitely, if, on the stroke of noon, Mr. Gavin Smeaton had not
walked in on us. At sight of him they stopped, and presently they were
deep in the matter of the similarity of the handwritings, Mr. Lindsey
having brought the letter and the will with him. Deep, at any rate, Mr.
Lindsey and Mr. Portlethorpe were; as for Mr. Gavin Smeaton, he appeared
to be utterly amazed at the suggestion which Mr. Lindsey threw out to
him--that the father of whom he knew so little was, in reality, Michael
Carstairs.

"Do you know what it is you're suggesting, Lindsey?" demanded Mr.
Portlethorpe, suddenly. "You've got the idea into your head now that this
young man's father, whom he's always heard of as one Martin Smeaton, was
in strict truth the late Michael Carstairs, elder son of the late Sir
Alexander--in fact, being the wilful and headstrong man that you are,
you're already positive of it?"

"I am so!" declared Mr. Lindsey. "That's a fact, Portlethorpe."

"Then what follows?" asked Mr. Portlethorpe. "If Mr. Smeaton there is the
true and lawful son of the late Michael Carstairs, his name is not
Smeaton at all, but Carstairs, and he's the true holder of the baronetcy,
and, as his grandfather died intestate, the legal owner of the property!
D'you follow that?"

"I should be a fool if I didn't!" retorted Mr. Lindsey. "I've been
thinking of it for thirty-six hours."

"Well--it'll have to be proved," muttered Mr. Portlethorpe. He had been
staring hard at Mr. Gavin Smeaton ever since he came in, and suddenly he
let out a frank exclamation. "There's no denying you've a strong
Carstairs look on you!" said he. "Bless and save me!--this is the
strangest affair!"

Smeaton put his hand into his pocket, and drew out a little package which
he began to unwrap.

"I wonder if this has anything to do with it," he said. "I remembered,
thinking t