“The House of Lords has inherent rights of its own in regard to the granting of any claim,” replied the lawyer carefully, “rights as the guardian of its own privileges.  I do not think, however, that your claim would be rejected.  The line of descent is clear, if the proofs of your brother’s statement are found.  The Turrald barony is a parliamentary peerage which descends to a sole daughter.  You can only succeed your brother in the line of descent if she is illegitimate.”

“In any case the present claim could not be gone on with, could it?”

“No.  That must be withdrawn.  I will write to the Home Secretary acquainting him with your brother’s death.  Later on, if we find the proofs, another claim can be prepared on your behalf.”

“If I decide to go on with it.”

“I trust that you will,” said the lawyer.  “It was your brother’s dream to restore the title with a male line of descent.”

“His dream will be fruitless so far as I am concerned,” said Charles Turold, who had been listening intently to this conversation.  “I shall have nothing to do with this title.”  He got up, and strode abruptly from the room without another word.

Mr. Brimsdown was a little surprised at the lack of manners evinced by this precipitate departure, but arose without speaking to take his own leave.  Austin did not offer to escort him downstairs.  He rang the bell, which was answered by the gaunt maid who had been engaged to sit as Britannia or the Madonna, and to her he consigned his departing visitor after a soft pressure of his white hand.

The maid preceded the lawyer down the staircase with a martial step which outstripped his, and waited at the foot for him to complete the descent.  As Mr. Brimsdown reached the last stair, a door immediately opposite opened, and a lady came out.  Mr. Brimsdown glanced at her casually in passing, and encountered her glance in return.  In that brief look he observed the dawn of swift surprise in her eyes.  Her careworn face flushed, and she made an eager step forward, as though about to speak.  Somewhat surprised at this action on her part, Mr. Brimsdown hesitated, then, reflecting that he had probably misinterpreted a chance movement on the part of a perfect stranger, went towards the door, which the maid was holding open for him.  As he passed through he glanced back, and to his astonishment saw the woman in the passage still standing in the same spot, staring fixedly after him, apparently in a state of consternation or amazement, he could not say which.

He went out of the door with a vision of her questioning gaze following him as far as she could see him.  He did not think any more of it just then.  A lowering sky suggested rain, and he set off at a round pace for the inn where he had left the vehicle which had brought him to the churchtown.

But quickly as he walked, a footstep behind him was quicker still, and he turned involuntarily to see who was following.  Another surprise was in store for him.  The tall figure hurrying after him, with the evident intention of overtaking him, was Charles Turold.  The lawyer stood still and waited for him.