"I am Miss Chattaway," she answered, drawing from him with a scornful gesture. "Papa," she whispered, going up to the cowed, shrinking figure, who had followed in the wake of the rest, "who is that man?" "Hush, Octave! He has come to turn us out of our home." Octave gazed as one suddenly blinded. She saw the strange likeness to the Trevlyns, and it flashed into her mind that it must be the Uncle Rupert, risen from the supposed dead, of whom she had heard so much. She saw him notice her two sisters; saw him turn to Maude, and gaze earnestly into her face. "You should be a Trevlyn. A softer, fairer face than Joe's, but the same outlines. What is your name, my dear?" "Maude Trevlyn, sir." "Ay. Joe's child. Have you any brothers or sisters?" "One brother." Squire Trevlyn--we must give him his title henceforth--looked round the room, as if in search of the brother. "Where is he?" Maude shivered; but he waited for an answer, and she gave it. "He is not here, sir." "And now tell me a little of the past," he cried, wheeling round on his sister Diana. "Who is the reigning master of Trevlyn Hold?" She indicated Chattaway with her finger. "He is." "He! Who succeeded my father--in my place?" "He did. James Chattaway." "Then where was Joe?" "Joe was dead. He had died a few months previously." "Leaving--how many children did you say--two?" "Two--Maude and Rupert." "The latter still an infant, I presume, at the time of my father's death?" "Quite an infant." "Nevertheless, he was Squire of Trevlyn Hold, failing me. Why did he not succeed?" There came no answer. He looked at them all in succession; but even Miss Diana Trevlyn's undisturbable equanimity was shaken for the moment. It was Mr. Chattaway who plucked up courage to reply, and he put on as bold a front as he could. "Squire Trevlyn judged it well to will the estate to me. What would a child in petticoats do, reigning at Trevlyn Hold?" "He might have reigned by deputy. Where is Rupert? I must see him!" But had they been keen observers they might have detected that Squire Trevlyn put the questions not altogether with the tone of a man who seeks information. In point of fact he was as wise as they were as to the principal events which had followed on the Squire's death. He had remained in London two or three weeks since landing; had gathered all the information that could be afforded him by Connell and Connell, and had himself dictated the letters which had so upset Mr. Chattaway; more than that, he had, this very morning, halted at Barmester, on his way to Trevlyn Hold, had seen Mr. Peterby, and gleaned many details. One thing Mr. Peterby had not been able to tell him, whether the unfortunate Rupert was living or dead. "Where is Maude?" he suddenly asked. Maude stepped forward, somewhat surprised. "Not you, child. One who must be thirty good years older than you. My sister, Maude Trevlyn."