‘No; the person in question is Ferdinand Sivewright’s father.’ ‘A pretty disreputable set, those Sivewrights, I should think,’ said Mr. Pullman, ‘so far as I can judge from the transactions between Ferdinand Sivewright and my late client, Mr. Henry Glenlyne, which were chiefly of the bill-discounting order.’ ‘I have nothing to say in favour of Ferdinand Sivewright, who died yesterday at the London Hospital,’ answered Lucius; ‘but his father is an honest man, and it was his father who brought up Lucille, knowing nothing more of her parentage than the vague idea which he gathered from certain letters written by Mr. Glenlyne.’ ‘O, Ferdinand Sivewright is dead, is he?’ retorted Mr. Pullman, with a suspicious look; ‘and it is only after his death that this claim arises.’ There was such an insolent doubt implied by the lawyer’s words and manner that Lucius rose with an offended look, and was about to leave Mr. Pullman’s office. ‘You have chosen to discredit my statements,’ he said; ‘I can go to some other lawyer who will be more civil and less suspicious.’ ‘Stop, sir,’ cried Mr. Pullman, wheeling round in his revolving chair as Lucius approached the door. ‘I don’t say I won’t help you; I don’t say your case is not a sound one; nor do I doubt your good faith. Sit down again, and let us discuss the matter quietly.’ ‘I have endeavoured to do that, Mr. Pullman, but you have chosen to adopt an offensive tone, and the discussion is ended.’ ‘Come, Mr. Davoren, why be so thin-skinned? You come to me with a story which at the first glance seems altogether incredible, and before I have had time to weigh the facts or to recover my breath after the surprise occasioned by your startling disclosure, you take offence and wish me good-morning. Go to another lawyer if you please; but if your case is a sound one, there is no one who can help you so well as I.’ ‘You are perhaps solicitor to some other branch of the family—to people whose interests would be injuriously affected by the assertion of Lucille Glenlyne’s claims.’ ‘No, Mr. Davoren. When Mr. Spalding Glenlyne came into his cousin’s property, he chose to employ another solicitor. My connection with the Glenlyne family then terminated, except as concerns Miss Glenlyne.’ ‘Miss Glenlyne—who is that?’ ‘Henry Glenlyne’s aunt. The sister of Mr. Reginald Glenlyne, who left him his fortune.’ ‘Is it possible that Miss Glenlyne is still living?’ exclaimed Lucius, remembering Monsieur Dolfe’s description of the little elderly lady, thin, pale, and an invalid. And this description had applied to her twenty-two years ago. Miss Glenlyne must surely belong to the Rosicrucians, or to the house of Methuselah. ‘Yes,’ replied Mr. Pullman, ‘Miss Glenlyne is a very old lady; between seventy and eighty, I daresay.’ ‘But Miss Glenlyne was an invalid two-and-twenty years ago.’