a man of good
family. I grant that it is a very stupid prejudice, still I suppose it is
a general one. You told me, I think, that your lawyer had found out that
this Sir Ralph Gilmore had only two sons, and that one of them had died
suddenly and unmarried."

"That is so, sir."

"Then in that case, you see, if you prove your identity you would
certainly be heir to the baronetcy."

"I suppose so, sir. I have never given the matter any thought. It is not
rank I want, but family. Still, I might not be heir to the baronetcy, for
even supposing that my father was really the other son, he might have had
children older than I am who remained with their grandfather."

"That is possible," Mr. Palethorpe said, "though unlikely. Why should he
have left them behind him when he went out into the world?"

"He might not have wished to bother himself with them; he might have
intended to claim them later. No one can say."

"Well, on the whole, I should say that your chance of coming into the
baronetcy is distinctly good. It would look well, you know--Captain Sir
William Gilmore, R.N."

"We mustn't count our chickens too soon, Mr. Palethorpe," Will laughed;
"but nevertheless I do think that the prospects are favourable. Still, I
must wait the result of the search that my lawyer has been carrying on."

"Well, you know my house is your home as long as you like to use it."

"Thank you, sir! but I don't like to intrude upon your kindness too much,
and I think that I will take a lodging somewhere in the West End, so that
I may be within easy reach of you here."

"Well, it must be as you like, lad. In some respects, perhaps, it will be
best so. I may remind you, my boy, that it is not always wise for two
young people to be constantly in each other's society." And he laughed.

Will made no answer; he had decided to defer putting the question until
his claim was settled one way or the other.

In a few days he again called upon his lawyer.

"I have found out enough," the latter said, "to be certain that your
father started from London with his violin and you, a child of three. I
have considerable hopes that we shall, ere long, get a clue to the place
where he lived while in London. The runner has met a woman who remembers
distinctly such a man and a sick wife and child lodging in the house of a
friend of hers. The friend has moved away and she has lost sight of her,
but she knows some people with whom the woman was intimate, and thro