"No, but my nephew is. I have a great surprise for you, Mr. Wrenn. My nephew is Herbert Loring's grandson and namesake." Nicholas Gayne marveled at the self-control of a lawyer, for Luther Wrenn's expression did not change. "I visited Mr. Loring before he went abroad the last time, but he would not listen to me or look at my proofs. So I suppose he has not mentioned his grandson in his will, and, if that is the fact, I wish to retain you to break the will." This declaration was made with great energy and a flash of the speaker's dark eyes. "You have proofs, then," said Mr. Wrenn, after a short hesitation, perhaps to make sure of the retention of that self-control. "Yes, right here." Gayne caught up from the floor a small black leather bag, and opened it. "Here are the letters Bert's mother wrote her father to try for a reconciliation. Returned unopened, you see. Here is her picture. Perhaps you knew her." Luther Wrenn took the small card photograph and gazed at it long. "My brother was an irresponsible sort of chap. At the time he met Miss Loring, he had put through a good deal and was riding on top of the wave. She was artistic in her tastes, and he met her through the artist set at Gloucester, where she was that summer, and she took a fancy to him that her father couldn't break off. Unfortunate, you'll say, but Lambert was a stunning-looking chap and she decided firmly on her course. So now here is this boy and the law should protect his rights. Here's the record of his birth fourteen years ago, in her own writing; perhaps you know her writing." Gayne was talking fast and excitedly, and Wrenn took from his hand one after another of the proofs he offered and laid them on his desk with no change of countenance. "What sort of a boy is your nephew?" he asked. "A bright boy?" Gayne's face changed. He looked away. "Well, no. I can't say he is. Bert is delicate. He needs all sorts of care, care that takes heaps of money to pay for. I haven't been able to do for him what I'd like to. As soon as you get his money for him, I shall engage professional care and see that he has the best. I'm a good business man, if I do say it, and I'll see that his funds multiply until he is able to look after his fortune himself." Luther Wrenn nodded. "I see," he said; and he did, very plainly. "Now, there will be no reading of the will, Mr. Gayne. That is all attended to. So you may leave this matter with me." "Was the boy mentioned?" asked Gayne eagerly. "No; no mention of him." "You think you can get some money, though, don't you?" "Possibly. I'll see you again." "There ain't any kind of doubt that he's the genuine grandson," said Gayne, rising reluctantly, as the lawyer got to his feet. "Your proofs seem to be convincing," was the grave reply. "Well, could you--couldn't you advance me something now for Bert's care? He needs a lot of things, that boy does." "You go too swiftly, Mr. Gayne. Come back here at three o'clock day after to-morrow."