"I am informed that Major Gerald Langdon is here," he said, rubbing his lean fingers. "Also Captain Richard Stanbury and his son. I have the honor to represent the firm of Sharswood & Feeman, solicitors, Lincoln's Inn, London. They sent me to this country in the interests of their late estimable client, the Earl of Ravenswood--" "Your errand is already known," the Major interrupted, faintly. "My minutes are numbered, and what you have to tell no longer concerns me. But there stands the new Earl of Ravenswood, and his son, Lord Langdon." "Sir, these gentlemen have no claim to the titles," said Mr. Waxpenny. "No claim?" demanded the Major. Nathan and his father looked surprised, and Barnabas nodded at them meaningly. "I said no claim," repeated Mr. Waxpenny. "The Earl had--a third and elder son, Anthony--" "He died years ago," gasped Major Langdon. "Exactly, sir; but he left a wife and son behind him." Having made this announcement Mr. Waxpenny paused a moment to enjoy its thrilling effect. "Anthony Langdon was a wild and dissipated young man," he continued. "Under an assumed name he was married in London in the year 1759. In the following year, after a son had been born to him, he tired of his family, deserted them, and came home. A week later he was stabbed in a drunken brawl in Nottingham. Before he died he confessed his marriage to his father, who chose, for reasons that may be understood, to keep the secret locked in his own bosom." Mr. Waxpenny stopped to stroke his chin. "The deserted wife," he resumed, "was a proud and high-spirited woman. Feeling satisfied that her husband had tired of her, she emigrated to America with her father and her son, where the Earl kept track of them for a time. They were worthy and upright people, and the knowledge of this fact doubtless prompted him to make confession and restitution on his deathbed. By the terms of his will, which was entrusted to my employers, one-half of the estate is divided equally between his sons Gerald and Richard. The other half goes to Anthony's son, who is the rightful Earl of Ravenswood." "Have you found him?" asked the major. "I regret to say that I have made no progress as yet," replied Mr. Waxpenny. "The lad would now be eighteen years of age. The name of his maternal grandfather was Matthew Marsham, and he himself was called by the assumed name of his father, Godfrey Spencer--" Godfrey sprang forward, his face as pale as ashes. "Sir, my grandfather was Matthew Marsham," he cried. "I am Godfrey Spencer, and my mother is still living." Mr. Waxpenny tried hard to preserve his legal dignity, but the effort was vain. "You are Godfrey Spencer?" he exclaimed excitedly. "Yes, you have the family likeness. And can you prove your claim?" "My mother has the papers, sir--the certificate of her marriage and my birth."