When breakfast was done, Hugh Ritson took certain documents from a cabinet. "Be seated, gentlemen," he said. All sat except Drayton, who lighted a pipe, and rang to ask if the postman had come. He had not. "Then go and sharpen up his heels." "My duty would be less pleasant," said Hugh Ritson, "if some of the facts were not already known." "Then we'll take 'em as read, so we will," put in Drayton, perambulating behind a cloud of smoke. "Paul, I will ask you to be seated," said Hugh, in an altered tone. Drayton sat down with a snort. "I have to tell you," continued Hugh Ritson, "that my brother known to you as Paul Ritson, is now satisfied that he was not the heir of my father, who died intestate." There were sundry nods of the grave noddles assembled about the table. "Fearful shock to any man," said one. "No wonder he has lost heart and grown reckless," said another. "On becoming aware of this fact, he was anxious to relinquish the estate to the true heir." There were further nods, and some muttered comments on the requirements of honor. "I show you here a copy of the register of my father's marriage, and a copy of the register of my own birth, occurring less than a year afterward. From these, in the absence of extraordinary testimony, it must be the presumption that I am myself my father's rightful heir." The papers were handed about and returned with evident satisfaction. "So far, all is plain," continued Hugh Ritson. "But my brother has learned that he is not even my father's son." Three astonished faces were lifted from the table. Bonnithorne sat with head bent. Drayton leaned an elbow on one knee and smoked sullenly. "It turns out that he is the son of my mother by another man," said Hugh Ritson. The guests twisted about. "Ah, that explains all," they whispered. "You will be surprised to learn that my mother's husband by a former invalid marriage was no other than Robert Lowther, and that he who sits with us now as Paul Ritson is really Paul Lowther." At this, Hugh placed two further documents on the table. Drayton cleared his throat noisily. "Dear me, dear me! yet it's plain enough!" said one of the visitors. "Then what about Mrs. Ritson--Miss Greta, I mean?" asked another. "She is Paul Lowther's half-sister, and therefore his marriage with her must be annulled." The three gentlemen turned in their seats and looked amazed, Drayton still smoked in silence. Bonnithorne did not raise his head. "He will relinquish to me my father's estates, but he is not left penniless," continued Hugh Ritson. "By his own father's will he inherits five thousand pounds." Drayton snorted contemptuously, then spat on the floor. "Friends," said Hugh Ritson again, "there is only one further point, and I am loath to touch on it. My brother--I speak of Paul Lowther--on taking possession of the estates, exercised what he believed to be his legal right to mortgage them. I am sorry to say he mortgaged them deeply."