standing just within his own room when Maisie and the
strange woman came into the office, and hearing what was said, he called
us all three to go into him. And, like myself, he looked at the woman
with a good deal of curiosity, wanting--as I did--to see some likeness to
the dead man. But there was no likeness to be seen, for whereas
Gilverthwaite was a big and stalwart fellow, this was a small and spare
woman, whose rusty black clothes made her look thinner and more meagre
than she really was. All the same, when she spoke I knew there was a
likeness between them, for her speech was like his, different altogether
from ours of the Border.

"So you believe you're the sister of this man James Gilverthwaite,
ma'am?" began Mr. Lindsey, motioning the visitor to sit down, and
beckoning Maisie to stop with us. "What might your name be, now?"

"I believe this man that's talked about in the newspapers is my brother,
sir," answered the woman. "Else I shouldn't have taken the trouble to
come all this way. My name's Hanson--Mrs. Hanson. I come from Garston,
near Liverpool."

"Aye--just so--a Lancashire woman," said Mr. Lindsey, nodding. "Your
name would be Gilverthwaite, then, before you were married?"

"To be sure, sir--same as James's," she replied. "Him and me was the
only two there was. I've brought papers with me that'll prove what I
say. I went to a lawyer before ever I came, and he told me to come at
once, and to bring my marriage lines, and a copy of James's birth
certificate, and one or two other things of that sort. There's no doubt
that this man we've read about in the newspapers was my brother, and of
course I would like to put in my claim to what he's left--if he's left
it to nobody else."

"Just so," agreed Mr. Lindsey. "Aye--and how long is it since you last
saw your brother, now?"

The woman shook her head as if this question presented difficulties.

"I couldn't rightly say to a year or two, no, not even to a few years,"
she answered. "And to the best of my belief, sir, it'll be a good thirty
years, at the least. It was just after I was married to Hanson, and that
was when I was about three-and-twenty, and I was fifty-six last
birthday. James came--once--to see me and Hanson soon after we was
settled down, and I've never set eyes on him from that day to this.
But--I should know him now."

"He was buried yesterday," remarked Mr. Lindsey. "It's a pity you didn't
telegraph to some of us."

"The lawyer I went