as your home, of course. I'll do
everything for you that Grandfather ever did, and more!"

"Will the Chase be yours now, then, Everard?" asked Bevis.

"I suppose so. I'm the eldest son, you see, and the property has always
gone in the direct line. It was entailed until fifty years ago. I shan't
make any changes. I've told the servants so, and they all said they
wished to stay on. I wouldn't part with Winder or Milner for the world!
They're part of the establishment."

"I couldn't imagine the place without them," agreed Dulcie.

On the afternoon before the funeral, Mr. Bowden, who had motored over to
make some final arrangements, concluded his business, drank a cup of tea
in the drawing-room, and was escorted by Everard and Lilias through the
hall.

"The passing of the Squire is a sad loss to the neighborhood," he
remarked. "He was a true type of the good old school of country
gentlemen, and most of us feel 'we shall not look upon his like again.'"

"No," replied Everard. "It will be very hard to succeed him, I know, but
I shall try to do my best."

Mr. Bowden started, looked at him musingly for a moment, knitted his
brows, then apparently came to a decision. Instead of taking his hat and
coat from Winder, he waved the two young people into the study, followed
them, and shut the door.

"I want a word with you in private," he began. "I'm going to do a very
unprofessional thing, but, as I've known you for years, I feel the case
justifies me. I can't let you come into the dining-room to-morrow, after
the funeral, and hear your grandfather's will read aloud, without giving
you some warning beforehand of its contents. I hinted to you, Everard,
at Christmas-time, not to count too much upon expectations."

"Why, but surely I am the heir?" burst out Everard with white lips.

"My poor boy, you are nothing of the sort. Your grandfather has willed
the property to the child of his elder son, Tristram."

At that critical moment there was a rap at the door, and Winder, the
butler, entered, respectfully apologetic, to summon Mr. Bowden to the
telephone. The lawyer answered the call, which was apparently a very
urgent one, for, without another word to Everard and Lilias, he took hat
and coat, hurried from the house, mounted his motor-cycle, and was gone.
He left utter consternation behind him. The two young people, returning
to the study, tried to face the disastrous news. He had indeed told them
no details, but the main ou