whatever that he is
Uncle Arthur's son. His clerk--Mr. Downing--went out to Martinique,
you know, and his first letters came a day or two ago. All inquiries
give the same result, and Downing says that it is quite easy to trace
the man's life, step by step, from his birth in St. Pierre, past the
dark days of the earthquake and the lonely life at Marie-Galante.
Mrs. de Mountford was a half-caste native, as we all suspected, but
the marriage was unquestionably legal. Downing has spoken to people in
Martinique and also in Marie-Galante, who knew her and her son, or at
any rate, of them. I cannot tell you everything clearly, but there are
a great many links in a long chain of evidence, and so far Mr. Dobson
and his clerk have not come across a broken one. That the Mrs. de
Mountford who died at Marie-Galante was Uncle Arthur's wife, and that
Philip is his son, I am afraid no one can question. He has quite a
number of letters in his possession which Uncle Arthur wrote after he
had practically abandoned wife and child. I think it was the letters
that convinced Uncle Rad."

"Lord Radclyffe," she remarked dryly, "has taken everything far too
much for granted."

"He is convinced, Lou--and that's all about it."

"He is," she retorted more hotly than was her wont, "acting in a cruel
and heartless manner. Even if this Philip is your uncle Arthur's son,
even if he is heir to the peerage and the future head of the family,
there was no reason for installing him in your home, Luke, and turning
you and the others out of it."

"I suppose," rejoined Luke philosophically, "the house was never
really our home. What Uncle Rad gave freely, he has taken away again
from us. I don't suppose that we have the right to complain."

"But what will become of you all?"

"We must scrape along. Frank must have his promised allowance or he'll
never get along in the service, and five hundred pounds a year is a
big slice out of a thousand. Jim, too, spends a great deal. Uncle Rad
never stinted him with money, for it was he who wanted Jim to be in
the Blues. Now he may have to exchange into a less expensive regiment.
I think Edie will marry soon--Reggie Duggan has been in love with her
for the past two years--she may make up her mind now."

"But you, Luke?"

He did not know if he ought to tell her of his plans. The ostrich farm
out in Africa--the partnership offered to him by a cousin of his
mother's who was doing remarkably well, but who was gettin