‘Well, you might have made a worse shot,’ returned Miss Marjory indulgently. However, you haven’t quite got to the rights of it yet, as you will see when I tell you that the father’s name was the same as the son’s—Alfred Belassis.’ ‘Alfred Belassis!’ ‘Yes, Alfred Belassis, brothers are not usually called by the same name.’ ‘A cousin?’ suggested Tor feebly; but Miss Marjory cut him ruthlessly short. ‘Cousin, indeed! Don’t make yourself out denser than you are! I believe you have grasped the situation now.’ ‘Do you mean that you think he is my uncle’s son?’ quoth Tor. ‘Impossible!’ ‘I believe he is Philip Debenham’s uncle’s son, most assuredly; and so will you too, if you will only listen to me.’ ‘But has he, then, a right to his name?’ Tor could not help asking. ‘Do you mean that Belassis has been twice married?’ ‘Oh yes, he was married fast enough. Mr. Longmore married them—my pretty waiting-maid, Nelly Roberts, and that young loafer Alfred Belassis, whom we none of us knew, and none of us liked. But they would go their own way, and nobody could hinder the marriage. Nelly was one-and-twenty, and he a little older. He made out that he was well-to-do, and would make a lady of her; and her silly head was turned, and they got married, and lived for a few months at the Angler’s Arms, where he had been stopping for the fishing. And then one fine morning he got some letters from home, he told her, and must go away for a few days on business. He left no address, saying he would write when he reached his destination, and she was too confiding to ask questions. He went away in gay good spirits, and never returned again; nor did any word or message from him ever reach her from that day forward.’ ‘The scoundrel!’ muttered Tor.