“It depends on the terms of the original creation.  The Turrald barony originally went into abeyance among several daughters.  One daughter could have succeeded.  There is nothing in the wording of the original writ to prevent it—­no limitation to male heirs.  It is now well established by precedent that a daughter can inherit a barony by writ.  But for the unhappy obstacle revealed by your brother’s story, his daughter would undoubtedly have succeeded to the restored title on his death.”

“I’m sure it’s very good of you to explain it to me,” murmured Mrs. Pendleton, in some confusion of mind.  “It sounds quite reasonable, too.  A woman can inherit the throne of England, so why not a title?  But it never occurred to me before.  Sisily, of course, cannot succeed to my brother’s title because of her birth.  But is there any need for this to be known?  Could she not sign a paper renouncing her rights in return for a share of my brother’s fortune?”

“I doubt if the law would approve of the arrangement if it became known.”

“The law should realize that it was done from the best of motives to keep from an innocent girl a secret which would darken her life,” responded Mrs. Pendleton with decision.

“I wasn’t looking at it altogether in that light,” replied Dr. Ravenshaw with a slow shake of the head.  “But it might have been tried—­oh yes, it might have been tried.”  He rose from his chair, and paced thoughtfully up and down the room.

“Is it too late to try it now?” she asked.

He looked at her thoughtfully.

“In what way?”

“By trying to persuade my brother to change his mind.”

“He is not likely to change his mind.”

“That,” responded Mrs. Pendleton, “remains to be put to the test.  I intend to see him to-night, before it is too late.  I beg you for Sisily’s sake to come with me and try and persuade him.”

“Such a request as you propose to make should come only from a member of the family,” replied Dr. Ravenshaw.  “It is a matter in which I would rather not be involved.  If you wish support, I would remind you that there are two other members of your own family—­your other brother and his son—­staying temporarily in this churchtown, not far from here.  Why not go to them?”

With a charmingly feminine gesture Mrs. Pendleton washed her hands of the other members of the family.  “I would not dream of going to Austin,” she said in decided tones.  “He would not approve of my plan, nor, indeed, would Robert listen to him if he did.  But he would listen to you, I feel sure.  That is my reason for coming to you.”  She rose from her seat, and sought to shepherd him into compliance by approaching him with a propitiatory smile.  “Do come, doctor.  I have trespassed too much on your kindness already, but oblige me further in this.”

“It’s rather late for a visit,” he replied.

“It’s only half-past nine,” she said, with a glance at her wrist watch.  “My brother sits up till all hours over his papers and books.  I will take all responsibility upon myself for the visit.  I will tell Robert that I literally had to drag you with me, and he will understand that we simply had to see him to-night, as he knows we are going home to London first thing in the morning.  Do come, Dr. Ravenshaw.  The car is waiting.”