“I suppose so,” replied Tim; “however, you may just as well see what he says.”

“But if I open it he will expect something.  I had better refuse it.”

“O no, leave that to me; I know how to put people off.”

“After all, it is a fine thing to be a gentleman, and be petitioned.”

I broke open the seal, and found that the letter contained an inclosure addressed to another person.  The letter was as follows:—­

“My dear Nephew,—­[’Bravo, sir,’ said Timothy; ’you’ve found an uncle already—­you’ll soon find a father.’] From the great uncertainty of the post, I have not ventured to do more than hint at what has come to light during this last year, but as it is necessary that you should be acquainted with the whole transaction; and as you had not decided when you last wrote, whether you would prosecute your intended three months trip to Sicily, or return from Milan, you may probably arrive when I am out of town; I therefore enclose you a letter to Mr Masterton, directing him to surrender to you a sealed packet, lodged in his hands, containing all the particulars, the letters which bear upon them, and what has been proposed to avoid exposure; which you may peruse at your leisure, should you arrive before my return to town.  There is no doubt but that the affair may be hushed up, and we trust that you will see the prudence of the measure; as, once known, it will be very discreditable to the family escutcheon. (’I always had an idea you were of good family,’ interrupted Tim.) I wish you had followed my advice, and had not returned; but as you were positive on that point, I beg you will now consider the propriety of remaining incognito, as reports are already abroad, and your sudden return will cause a great deal of surmise.  Your long absence at the Gottingen University, and your subsequent completion of your grand tour, will have effaced all remembrance of your person, and you can easily be passed off as a particular friend of mine, and I can introduce you everywhere as such.  Take, then, any name you may please, provided it be not Smith or Brown, or such vulgarisms; and on the receipt of this letter, write a note, and send it to my house in Portman Square, just saying, ‘so and so is arrived.’  This will prevent the servants from obtaining any information by their prying curiosity; and as I have directed all my letters to be forwarded to my seat in Worcestershire, I shall come up immediately that I receive it, and by your putting the name which you mean to assume, I shall know whom to ask for when I call at the hotel.

     “Your affectionate Uncle,

     “Windermear.”

“One thing is very clear, Timothy,” said I, laying the letter on the table, “that it cannot be intended for me.”

“How do you know, sir, that this lord is not your uncle?  At all events, you must do as he bids you.”

“What—­go for the papers! most certainly I shall not.”