d Logan; 'he was never identified. Was his name Harris?'

The peer half rose to his feet, flushed a fine purple, twiddled the
obsolete little grey tuft on his chin, and sat down again.

'I think I said, Mr. Logan, that the hitherto unidentified associate of
your ancestor was _a member of my own family_. Our name is _not_
Harris--a name very honourably borne--our family name is Guevara. My
ancestor was a cousin of the brave Lord Willoughby.'

'Most interesting! You must pardon me, but as nobody ever knew what you
have just found out, you will excuse my ignorance,' said Logan, who, to
be sure, had never heard of the brave Lord Willoughby.

'It is I who ought to apologise,' said the visitor. 'Your mention of the
name of Harris appeared to me to indicate a frivolity as to matters of
the past which, I must confess, is apt to make me occasionally forget
myself. _Noblesse oblige_, you know: we respect ourselves--in our
progenitors.'

'Unless he wants to prevent someone from marrying his great-grandmother,
I wonder what he is doing with his Tales of a Grandfather _here_,'
thought Logan, but he only smiled, and said, 'Assuredly--my own opinion.
I wish I could respect _my_ ancestor!'

'The gentleman of whom I speak, the associate of your own distant
progenitor, was the founder of our house, as far as mere titles are
concerned. We were but squires of Northumbria, of ancient Celtic
descent, before the time of Queen Elizabeth. My ancestor at that time--'

'Oh bother his pedigree!' thought Logan.

'--was a young officer in the English garrison of Berwick, and _he_, I
find, was _your_ ancestor's unknown correspondent. I am not skilled in
reading old hands, and I am anxious to secure a trustworthy person--really
trustworthy--to transcribe the manuscripts which contain these exciting
details.'

Logan thought that the office of the Disentanglers was hardly the place
to come to in search of an historical copyist. However, he remembered
Miss Willoughby, and said that he knew a lady of great skill and
industry, of good family too, upon whom his client might entirely depend.
'She is a Miss Willoughby,' he added.

'Not one of the Willoughbys of the Wicket, a most worthy, though
unfortunate house, nearly allied, as I told you, to my own, about three
hundred years ago?' said the Earl.

'Yes, she is a daughter of the last squire.'

'Ruined in the modern race for wealth, like so many!' exclaimed the peer,
and he sat in sil