‘You must find out the exact date of the wedding, and I will endeavour to find out that of Nelly’s death. Unluckily, as all these things happened more than a quarter of a century ago, I am doubtful if I have even a record left of the place the poor girl went to. It was Devonshire or Dorsetshire, I think, but I can be sure of nothing. Still, I will do my best; where there’s a will there’s a way. And I think you have now another hold upon your worthy uncle.’ ‘I think so,’ answered Tor, with some satisfaction in his tone. ‘If I wish to be specially agreeable to him, or if he has been particularly pleasant to me, I can tell him that I have been over to Whitbury, and ask him if he has any knowledge of the place.’ Miss Marjory seemed to enjoy the idea of this question very much. ‘Yes, Whitbury must recall many very pleasant associations; for, as I tell you, he sowed plenty of wild oats here before he spoilt poor Nelly’s life. Mr. Graves could, I fancy, lay his hands upon some papers which would be rather disconcerting to a man of his social standing. You could ask him if he remembers the lawyer Mr. Graves, or Miss Marjory Descartes. I should like to see his face if you did!’ ‘Did he know you, then?’ ‘Oh, he knew me well enough to come and beg my intercession with Mr. Graves, for his poor dear Nelly’s sake. I was a silly young thing in those days, with more money than wisdom; and I was fond of Nelly, and did not want her to know what a precious sort of fellow this husband of hers was. So I gave him money, and got him off somehow; but I don’t imagine his gratitude would teach him to welcome me very warmly now.’ Tor smiled to himself. ‘I could go on to sing your praises, and to assert my hope that some day I might see you at Ladywell. May I really hope that you will visit us there one of these days?’ ‘I’ll come if you want me—if things are going badly with you, and a curb is wanted for Belassis. I’ll come if my support will be of service to you; but I don’t often pay visits for pleasure. I always find that I wish myself home again in two days’ time.’ ‘I trust you may not do that if you come to Ladywell,’ said Tor gallantly. ‘Such a promise almost makes a complication and danger desirable.’ ‘Stuff and nonsense! don’t talk rubbish to an old woman like me. I’ll come if I’m needed; and if not, I’ll stay at home. But don’t you be rash and drive Belassis to bay, or he might turn upon you. I’d advise you to say nothing about the kinsman you’ve found here.’ ‘I shall not at present, at any rate. I have no wish to drive things to a crisis; but I think I shall be able to guess by his manner whether or not he knew of his first wife’s death, before his second marriage. I hope it is all right. I don’t want, for the sake of wife and children, to drag up anything that would fall so hardly upon them; but I don’t care how much of a dog’s life I lead Belassis.’ ‘He deserves it all,’ cried Miss Marjory, with energy; ‘only be careful.’