"Take me to the servants' hall, Mr. Markland," said Dickson. "I cannot sit down with my officer." Just as Atherton was about to leave the room, Sir Richard stepped up to him and said in a low tone: "Before we start, I should like to have a little conversation with you in private, Captain Legh." "I am quite at your service now, Sir Richard," replied the young man. He then glanced significantly at Dickson, who went out with the butler, leaving him alone with the baronet. CHAPTER XXVIII. A STARTLING DISCLOSURE. When the door was closed, Sir Richard's manner somewhat changed towards the young man, and with less haughtiness than he had hitherto manifested, he said to him: "Pray be seated. I have much to say to you." Atherton complied, but for some minutes Sir Richard continued to pace rapidly to and fro within the room, as if unwilling to commence the conversation he had proposed. At last, he seated himself opposite the young man, who had watched him with surprise. "Are you acquainted with the history of my family?" he inquired, looking steadfastly at his auditor. "I have some slight acquaintance with it," replied Atherton. "You are aware, I presume, that the Rawcliffes have occupied this old mansion for upwards of two centuries?" Atherton bowed, but made no remark. Sir Richard went on: "My ancestors have all been high and honourable men, and have handed a proud name from one generation to another. Would it not be grievous if a stain were affixed on a name, hitherto unsullied, like ours? Yet if this inquiry which the prince has instituted be pursued, such must infallibly be the case. A dark secret connected with our family may be brought to light. Now listen to me, and you shall judge: "Some twenty years ago, Sir Oswald Rawcliffe, my elder brother, died, leaving a widow and an infant son. Lady Rawcliffe came to reside here with her child--do you note what I say?" "I think I have heard that the child was stolen under mysterious circumstances," said Atherton, "and that the lady subsequently died of grief." "You have heard the truth," said Sir Richard, with a strange look. "As the child could not be found, I succeeded to the title and the estates." A pause ensued, during which such fearful suspicions crossed Atherton that he averted his gaze from the baronet. Suddenly, Sir Richard rose in his chair, leaned forward, and gazing fixedly at Atherton, exclaimed: "What will you say if I tell you that the child who was carried off, and supposed to be dead, is still living? What will you say if I tell you that you are Conway Rawcliffe, the son of Sir Oswald, and rightful heir to the property?" "Amazement!" cried the listener.