'Of course I do,' returned the old man vigorously. 'In those days peers didn't hold forth at Exeter Hall--in fact, Wantley was the first of that breed; and by great good fortune, chance--I suppose it _was_ chance, eh, George?--brought him to Oglethorpe. The odd thing was his going there at all; once there, 'twas natural he should feel attracted.' 'I suppose Lady Wantley is like her daughter?' said Downing. 'God bless my soul, no! Lady Wantley's an Oglethorpe. Penelope's a----' The old man did not finish his sentence, but turned it off with: 'She's quite unlike her mother. Pity she wasn't a boy. The present man's no good to 'em--I mean to Lady Wantley and Penelope. Why should he be? He wasn't fairly treated. Of course he got Marston Lydiate, for that's entailed; but the place in Dorset, Monk's Eype, and all the money, were left away to the girl, although I did my best for him. Wantley spoke to me about it, but I couldn't move him; and then he was hardly cold before Penelope married her millionaire! A marriage, George, a marriage----' Words failed Mr. Gumberg. For the third time he repeated, 'A marriage'--his old eyes gleamed maliciously--'which was no marriage! You understand, eh? _Mensa non thorus_--that was the notion. Common among the early Christians, I believe. Well, no one can say what the end of it would have been, for nature abhors a vacuum; but the poor monkish creature died, caught small-pox from a foreign sailor, and the bewitching girl was left all the Robinson millions!' 'Then I suppose you advised restitution to young Lord Wantley?' Mr. Gumberg chuckled. He evidently thought his guest intended a grim joke. 'The sort of thing a trustee would suggest, eh, George?' But Downing was apparently quite serious. 'I don't see why not,' he said. 'Do you mean that Lord Wantley is penniless?' Mr. Gumberg nodded. 'Something very like it,' he declared. 'Of course, the old man--though he was twenty years younger than I am now when he died--had some show of reason for the unfair thing he did. People always have. When he, and I suppose Lady Wantley, realized that they were not likely to have a son, he gave his heir--his third cousin, I fancy--the family living of Marston Lydiate, and years afterwards the man became a Romanist! Wantley chose to consider himself very much injured. He never saw his cousin again, and for years never took any notice of the boy--in fact, not till the ex-parson was dead.' 'Is young Lord Wantley a Roman Catholic?' asked Downing indifferently. 'No, he's not,' said Mr. Gumberg. 'The other day I heard him described as "a stickit Papist," and I suppose that's about what he is. But where's your interest in these people, George?' Mr. Gumberg asked suddenly. 'You don't know 'em, do you?' Downing hesitated. He was in the mood in which men feel almost compelled to make unexpected and amazing confidences, but the words which were so nearly being said were never uttered.