Mr. Bonnithorne rose in his eagerness and rubbed his hands together at the fire. "Yes, second," he said, with evident relish. Hugh read calmly: "Allan Ritson--Grace Ormerod--Register's office, Bow Street, Strand, London--June 12, 1847." "What do you say to that?" asked Mr. Bonnithorne, in an eager whisper. Hugh continued without comment. "And this comes last--Registration of Birth." "Name, Hugh--March 25, 1848--Holme, Ravenglass, Cumberland--Allan Ritson--Grace Ritson (Ormerod)." "There you have the case in a nutshell," said Mr. Bonnithorne, dropping his voice. "Paul is your half-brother, and the son of Lowther. You are Allan Ritson's heir, born within a year of your father's marriage. Can anything be clearer?" Hugh remained silently intent on the documents. "Were these copies made at Somerset House?" he asked. Mr. Bonnithorne nodded. "And your correspondent can be relied upon?" "Assuredly. A solicitor in excellent practice." "Was he told what items he had to find, or did he make a general search?" "He was told to find the marriage or marriages of Grace Ormerod and to trace her offspring." "And these were the only entries?" Mr. Bonnithorne nodded again. Hugh twirled the papers in his fingers, and then placed two of them side by side. His face wore a look of perplexity. "I am puzzled," he said. "What puzzles you?" said Mr. Bonnithorne. "Can anything be plainer?" "Yes. By these certificates I am two and a half years younger than Paul. I was always taught that there was only a year between us." Mr. Bonnithorne smiled, and said in a superior tone: "An obvious ruse." "You think a child is easily deceived--true!" Mr. Bonnithorne preserved a smiling face. "Now, I will proceed to the payment of the legacy, and you, no doubt, to the institution of your claim." "No," said Hugh Ritson, with emphasis, rising to his feet. "You know that if a bastard dies seized of an estate, the law justifies his title. He is then the bastard eigne. You must eject this man." "No," said Hugh Ritson again. The lawyer glanced up inquiringly, and Hugh added: "That shall come later. Meantime the marriage must be brought about." "Your own marriage with Greta?" "Paul's." "Paul's?" said Mr. Bonnithorne, the very suppression of his tone giving it additional emphasis. "Paul's," repeated Hugh with grim composure. "He shall marry her." The lawyer had risen once more, and was now face to face with Hugh Ritson, glancing into his eyes with eager scrutiny. "You cannot mean it?" he said at length. "And why not?" said Hugh, placidly. "Because Paul is her brother--at least, her half-brother." "They don't know that." Mr. Bonnithorne's breath seemed to be arrested. "But we know it, and we can't stand by and witness their marriage!" he said at length. Hugh Ritson leaned with his back to the fire. "We can, and shall," he said, and not a muscle of his face moved. Mr. Bonnithorne surveyed his friend from head to foot, and then his own countenance relaxed.