A famous London physician, who had probably killed more people than any other doctor living, and was esteemed proportionately, was summoned by telegraph; and by the sick man’s own desire the chief solicitor of the county town, who had been legal adviser and agent to the late duke, was sent for, to return in all haste to Staghurst and take down his instructions. Left alone with this person on his arrival, by his own express desire, Cocky, who had scarcely any voice left, whispered to him: “Would it keep ’em out of the succession if I declare they aren’t my children?” The solicitor hesitated; he felt his own position a most delicate and embarrassing one. “Your Grace must not entertain such suspicions,” he said, with some confusion. “The duchess enjoys the esteem and respect of every----” “Stow your gab!” hissed Cocky. “All I want to know is--if I made a formal declaration, would it stand?” “No, sir--it would not.” The lawyer thought the dying man’s mind wandered, being himself a country person to whose ears the gossip of smart society did not come. “Oh, your Grace, you must not think of such a thing,” he added, greatly embarrassed. “Dear me, dear me, I do not know what to say, sir.” “Would it keep her brats out?” said Cocky, as savagely as his failing breath allowed. The lawyer shook his head. “No, your Grace--it would not. Whatever may have happened, sir, you have condoned, you see. Of course, I am not for a moment supposing that there are any grounds----” “Stow that bosh!” said his client, as savagely as his weakness allowed. “If I could have divorced her all these years, and didn’t? If I said so now?” The lawyer shook his head again. “It would not stand, sir.” “Why not?” asked Cocky. “Children born in wedlock must be legitimate heirs, your Grace,” the lawyer said, very decidedly, to pierce through the muddled senses of the dying client. “Wedlock, eh?--wedlock?” repeated Cocky with a chuckle which ended in a convulsive cough. The word tickled his fancy mightily, though Mr. Curton could not imagine what he had said which was ludicrous. “Wedlock!” echoed Cocky; “you won’t beat that, Curton, in a brace of years!” “The word is good law and good English, sir,” said the solicitor, a little offended. “I repeat, after so many years of wedlock you could not leave a posthumous charge of the kind behind you. It might be mere pique and malice on your part. No Court would ratify it. It would only make a dreadful scandal, sir, because, I presume, Lord Alberic would endeavor to uphold your declaration, since he is next in succession after your Grace’s sons.” An angry flash came into Cocky’s sunken colorless eyes. “Beric? Gad! I’d forgot that. So he would. I’d rather little Jack came after me. He’s a good plucked one; bit his lips not to squeal when I pinched him. And I don’t dislike poor Harry. He’s a good fellow, and she got over him.”