Derrington looked thoughtful also. "It is strange," he admitted, "but you remember the tale of Poe's Purloined Letter. People always look in the most unlikely places first, and because the church was so near to town and nobody had replied to the advertisement, they--the searchers, I mean--must have thought that the marriage took place in some moorland parish where people never looked at the journals. It was the very closeness of Wargrove church to London, George, that prevented the certificate being discovered sooner." "I suppose you are right," said Brendon, "but it does seem strange." "Everything in life is strange," said Derrington, "and not the least strange thing is that I kick out Walter to make room for you. By the way, George, he will be here soon." "Have you told him?" "Yes, and he wants to see you about the matter. I said that he could in my presence. What he has to say I don't know. There is another reason for your remaining, George. Mrs. Ward and her daughter are coming here." "She won't be pleased to see me," said Brendon. "Oh, I think she will. After Ireland put her in a corner she grew afraid, and now she would like to see the matter settled at any price. When she is your mother-in-law, George, keep her out of your house or there will be trouble." "You must stand sentinel, sir. She won't come near me then." "Egad, that's true. She is afraid of me. I hold that stiletto, you see, and I know about her doings at San Remo. The minx!" said Derrington with great vigor. "I wonder that her daughter is so charming." "So good, you mean," said George, fondly, whereat Derrington gave a sigh. "Oh, love--love, and again--love," said he. "It seems I am going to have a most sentimental time with you two." "Be at rest, sir. Neither Dorothy nor I am sentimental. We are too serious for that." "That's worse. I hate serious lovers." "Then we will be gay," said George, with a laugh. "Don't overdo it," replied Derrington, with a kindly smile; "be as you are, both of you, and I shall not complain. Ah, here is Walter! Well, my boy, have you come to see your new cousin?" Walter Vane entered the library with an injured air. He looked neater and more fragile than ever, and wonderfully old, considering his years. Derrington looked from him to the fine figure of George, with a queer look in his eyes. "No one would ever take you for relatives," he said. "Why, they say we are like one another," said Walter. "Mrs. Ward remarked on the likeness when we dined with her. I wondered why we should resemble one another, but it is explained now," and Walter cast a not unkindly look in his cousin's direction. Derrington snarled. "George is like me, and you take after your father, Walter, who was a shrimp if ever there was one." George hastened to the rescue of his cousin. "It seems to me that the conversation is getting somewhat personal," he remarked. "Walter, I hope you bear me no grudge for stepping into your shoes."