While he spoke Katherine saw a man cross the threshold, a tall, gaunt man, slightly stooped. His clothes hung loosely on him, but they were new and good. His hair was iron gray, and thin on his craggy temples. Something about his watchful, stern eyes, his close-shut mouth, and strong, clean-shaven jaw seemed not unfamiliar to Katherine, and she was strangely struck and interested in his aspect. Mr. Newton's last words evidently reached his ear, for he answered, in deep, harsh tones, "No, Newton, I will _not_ wait!" and walked in, pausing exactly opposite the lawyer, who grew grayly pale, and starting from his seat, leaned both hands on the table, while he trembled visibly. "My God!" he exclaimed, hoarsely; "George Liddell!" "Ay, George Liddell! I thought you would know me." CHAPTER XXIV. A TRAVELLER'S STORY. When these startling sentences penetrated to Katherine's comprehension she saw as with a flash their far-reaching consequences. Her uncle's will suppressed, his son and natural heir would take everything. And her dear boys--how would they fare? She sat with wide-dilated eyes, gazing at the hard, displeased face of this unwelcome intruder. There were a few moments of profound silence; the old lawyer's hands, which relaxed their grasp of his chair as he looked with startled amazement at his late client's son, visibly trembled. Liddell was the first to speak. "So you thought I was dead and out of the way," he said, with a sneer; "that nothing would happen to disturb the fortunate possessor of my father's money. I was dead and done for, and a good riddance." "But how--how is it that you are alive!" stammered Mr. Newton. "Oh, that I can easily account for." And he looked round for a chair. "Yes, pray sit down," said Mr. Newton, recovering himself. Here Katherine, with the unconscious tact of a sensitive woman, feeling how terrible it must be to find one's continued existence a source of regret to others, rose and held out her hand. "Let me, your kinswoman," she said, "welcome you back to life and home. I hope there are many happy years before you." Liddell was greatly surprised. He mechanically took the hand offered to him, and looking earnestly into her face, exclaimed, "Who are you?" "Katherine Liddell, your uncle Frederic's daughter." He dropped--indeed, almost threw--her hand from him. "What!" he cried, "are _you_ the supplanter, who took all without an inquiry, without an effort to find out if I were dead or alive?" "Sit down--sit down--sit down," repeated Newton, still confused. "Let us talk over everything. As to trying to find you, we never dreamed of finding you, considering that twelve, fourteen years ago we had an account of your death from an eye-witness." "Cowardly liar! It was worth a Jew's ransom to see him turn white and drop into a chair when I confronted him the day before yesterday." "Why did you not communicate with me on hearing of your father's death?"