'I shall write to Craigengowan by the first post,' said Mr. Kippilaw after another of those thoughtful pauses during which he attentively eyed his visitor. 'Lord and Lady Fettercairn--like myself now creeping up the vale of years--(Hope they may soon see the end of it! thought Shafto) will, I have no doubt, be perfectly satisfied by the sequence and tenor of the documents you have brought me that you are their grandson--the son of the expatriated Lennard--and when I hear from them I shall let you know the result without delay. You are putting up at--what hotel?' 'At the Duke of Rothesay, in Princes Street.' 'Ah! very well.' 'Thanks; I shall be very impatient to hear.' 'And your cousin--he will, of course, go with you to Craigengowan?' Shafto hesitated, and actually coloured, as Florian could detect. 'What are your intentions or views?' Mr. Kippilaw asked the latter. 'He failed to pass for the army,' said Shafto bluntly and glibly, 'so I don't know what he means to do _now_. I believe that he scarcely knows himself.' 'Have you no friends on your mother's side, Mr. Florian?' 'None!' said Florian, with a sad inflection of voice. 'Indeed! and what do you mean to do?' 'Follow the drum, most probably,' replied Florian bitterly and a little defiantly, as Shafto's coldness, amid his own great and good fortune, roused his pride and galled his heart, which sank as he thought of Dulcie Carlyon, sweet, golden-haired English Dulcie, so far away. Mr. Kippilaw shook his bald head at the young man's answer. 'I have some little influence in many ways, and if I can assist your future views you may command me, Mr. Florian,' said he with fatherly kindness, for he had reared--yea and lost--more than one fine lad of his own. It has been said that one must know mankind very well before having the courage to be solely and simply oneself; thus, as Shafto's knowledge of mankind was somewhat limited, he felt his eye quail more than once under the steady gaze of Mr. Kippilaw. 'It is a very strange thing,' said the latter, 'that after the death of Mr. Cosmo in Glentilt, when Lord and Lady Fettercairn were so anxious to discover and recall his younger brother as the next and only heir to the title and estates, we totally failed to trace him. We applied to the War Office for the whereabouts of Major Lennard Melfort, but the authorities there, acting upon a certain principle, declined to afford any information. Advertisements, some plainly distinct, others somewhat enigmatical, were often inserted in the _Scotsman_ and _Times_, but without the least avail. 'As for the _Scotsman_,' said Shafto, 'the Major----' 'Your father, you mean?' 'Yes,' said he, reddening, 'was no more likely to see such a provincial print in Devonshire than the Roman _Diritto_ or the Prussian _Kreuz Zeitung_; and the _Times_, if he saw it--which I doubt--he must have ignored. Till the time of his death drew near, his feelings were bitter, his hostility to his family great.'