ittle
income--about a hundred a year."

Again Lady Ogram drew a deep breath. Her face was hotly flushed; her
hands trembled; a great joy shone from the transformed countenance.

"Thank goodness!" broke from her hoarsely. "Thank goodness!" Then, with
sudden alarm, "I suppose you're making no idiotic mistake?"

"That kind of mistake, Lady Ogram," responded Mr. Kerchever with a
tolerant motion of the eyebrows, "is not quite in my way. Indeed, I'm
not in the habit of making mistakes of any kind. You may be sure I have
taken every precaution before coming here with such news as this."

"All right! What are you angry about? Lawyers and doctors and
parsons--there's no talking with them, they're so touchy. Can't you go
on? Here's a girl falls out of the clouds, and I'm to show no curiosity
about her! You drive me crazy with your roundabout nonsense. Go _on_,
can't you!"

Mr. Kerchever eyed his client curiously. He was not offended, for he
had known Lady Ogram long, and had received traditions regarding her
from a time before he was born; but he could not help being struck just
now with her face and manner; they made him uneasy.

"I will tell you everything forthwith," he resumed, "but I must beg you
to control yourself, Lady Ogram. I do so out of regard for your health.
Emotion is natural, but, now that you know the news is all good, your
excellent sense should tranquillise you. Pray let us talk quietly."

Lady Ogram glanced at him, but nodded acquiescence.

"I'm as cool as you are. Talk as much as you like."

"A few days ago I had occasion to look through the lists of a London
University Calendar. My eye fell on the name Tomalin, and of course I
was interested. May Tomalin matriculated at London three years ago. I
could find no further record of her, but inquiries were easy, and they
guided me to Northampton. There I made the acquaintance of a Mr. Rooke,
a manufacturer, in whose house Miss Tomalin is resident, and has been
for a good many years; to be precise, since she was nine years old.
Without trouble I discovered the girl's history. Her grandfather,
Joseph Tomalin, died in Canada forty-seven years ago--"

"How do you know it was Jo--my brother?" asked the listener, sharply.

"All these things you can follow out for yourself in detail in the
papers I will leave with you. This Joseph had a brother Thomas, and his
age corresponds very well with that of your own brother Joseph. Thomas
Tomalin has left no trace, ex