se; and a great weight was
lifted off the tutor's mind in consequence.

On the following day he was calling at the Yeld bank to transact some
business (part of which was to pay in Mr Headland's cheque), when the
manager invited him into his parlour. This functionary was a
respectable, middle-aged person, who had held his appointment for five
or six years, keeping pretty much to himself, and, as is the lot of bank
managers, being made a great deal of by clients who chanced to be, or
desired to be, under obligations to his bank.

"Mr Armstrong," said he, "you will pardon me, but there's a little
matter--"

"Hullo!" thought the tutor, "has the bank stopped payment, or the
Maxfield securities been robbed?"

"Well, sir?"

"It's a private matter, and I should not mention it if it were not for
the talk which is going to and fro about young Mr Ingleton's lost
brother. I understand there's a claimant for the title, and not a very
eligible one."

"On the contrary, most ineligible," said the tutor. "And it seems
likely that he will, under present circumstances, keep far enough away
from these parts?"

"Naturally. The coroner's jury have given him a pressing invitation,
which he feels compelled to decline."

"Well, about this lost boy. You'll think me impertinent, but I think I
can tell you something about him."

The tutor started, and looked hard at the speaker. "Yes," said the
latter mildly. "As you know, I've not been here long. My predecessor,
Mr Morris, was a friend of the family. I remember his once mentioning
an elder son of the Squire who had been reported dead, and that was all
I ever heard of the matter from him or anybody else. But only last
week, in a bundle of documents relating to Mr Morris's own affairs,
which, as his executor, it was my duty to examine, I came upon a letter
which, though evidently private at the time, seems as if it ought at
least to be seen by you and your ward now. It proves that ten years ago
the elder son was alive, and being in his handwriting, it may be
important evidence if you have to deal with the claim of an impostor."

The tutor expressed considerable discomfort at this new complication,
and regarded the document in the banker's hand as if it were an infernal
machine.

"It's private, you say. Would it not be better to regard it as such?"

"I think it should be seen. If you prefer I will submit it to Mr
Pottinger."

This settled the business. The tutor stret