t you see that if Mrs. Luttrell and Brian and Miss
Murray are all convinced that you are Mrs. Luttrell's son, you are doing
them a wrong by destroying the proofs and leaving everybody in an
unsettled state? You should never have come to Scotland at all if you
did not mean to carry the matter through."

"That's what I say," cried Mr. Brett, who was working himself up into a
violent passion. "He has played fast and loose with all us! He has
tricked and cheated me. Why, he had a splendid case! And to think that
it can be set aside in this way!"

"Very informal," said Mr. Colquhoun, shaking his head, but with a little
gleam of laughter in his eye. If Dino Vasari had told the truth, the
matter had taken a fortunate turn in Mr. Colquhoun's opinion.

"Scandalous! scandalous!" exclaimed Mr. Brett. "Actionable, I call it.
You had no right to make away with those papers, sir. However, it may be
possible to repair the loss. They were not all there."

"I will not have it," said Dino, decisively. "Nothing more shall be
done. I waive my claims entirely. Brian and Miss Murray can settle the
rest."

And then the party broke up. Mr. Brett seized his client by the arm and
bore him away to the hotel, arguing and scolding as he went. Before his
departure, however, Dino found time to say a word in Mr. Colquhoun's
ear.

"Will you kindly look after Hugo to-night?" he said. "Mrs. Luttrell will
not wish him to return to Netherglen."

"Oh! There's been a quarrel, has there?" said Mr. Colquhoun eyeing the
young man curiously.

After a little consideration, Dino thought himself justified in saying
"Yes."

"I will see after him. You are going with Brett. You'll not have a
smooth time of it."

"It will be smoother by-and-bye. You will shake hands with me, Mr.
Colquhoun?"

"That I will," said the old lawyer, heartily. "And wish you God-speed,
my lad. You've not been very wise, maybe, but you've been generous."

"You will have Brian home, before long, I hope."

"I hope so. I hope so. It's a difficult matter to settle," said Mr.
Colquhoun, cautiously, "but I think we might see our way out of it if
Brian were at home. If you want a friend, lad, come to me."

Left alone with Hugo, the solicitor took his place once more at the
table, and hastily drank off a glass of wine, then glanced at his silent
guest with a queerly-questioning look.

"What's wrong with ye, lad?" he said. "Cheer up, and drink a glass of
good port wine. Your aunt has