I have only to bid farewell to See Yup, and close this reminiscence of a misunderstood man, by adding the opinion of an eminent jurist in San Francisco, to whom the facts were submitted:  “So clever was this alleged fraud, that it is extremely doubtful if an action would lie against See Yup in the premises, there being no legal evidence of the ‘salting,’ and none whatever of his actual allegation that the gold-dust was the ordinary yield of the tailings, that implication resting entirely with the committee who examined it under false pretense, and who subsequently forced the sale by intimidation.”

THE DESBOROUGH CONNECTIONS

“Then it isn’t a question of property or next of kin?” said the consul.

“Lord! no,” said the lady vivaciously.  “Why, goodness me!  I reckon old Desborough could, at any time before he died, have ‘bought up’ or ‘bought out’ the whole lot of his relatives on this side of the big pond, no matter what they were worth.  No, it’s only a matter of curiosity and just sociableness.”

The American consul at St. Kentigorn felt much relieved.  He had feared it was only the old story of delusive quests for imaginary estates and impossible inheritances which he had confronted so often in nervous wan-eyed enthusiasts and obstreperous claimants from his own land.  Certainly there was no suggestion of this in the richly dressed and be-diamonded matron before him, nor in her pretty daughter, charming in a Paris frock, alive with the consciousness of beauty and admiration, and yet a little ennuye from gratified indulgence.  He knew the mother to be the wealthy widow of a New York millionaire, that she was traveling for pleasure in Europe, and a chance meeting with her at dinner a few nights before had led to this half-capricious, half-confidential appointment at the consulate.

“No,” continued Mrs. Desborough; “Mr. Desborough came to America, when a small boy, with an uncle who died some years ago.  Mr. Desborough never seemed to hanker much after his English relatives as long as I knew him, but now that I and Sadie are over here, why we guessed we might look ’em up and sort of sample ’em!  ‘Desborough’ ’s rather a good name,” added the lady, with a complacency that, however, had a suggestion of query in it.

“Yes,” said the consul; “from the French, I fancy.”

“Mr. Desborough was English—­very English,” corrected the lady.

“I mean it may be an old Norman name,” said the consul.

“Norman’s good enough for me,” said the daughter, reflecting.  “We’ll just settle it as Norman.  I never thought about that Des.”

“Only you may find it called ‘Debborough’ here, and spelt so,” said the consul, smiling.

Miss Desborough lifted her pretty shoulders and made a charming grimace.  “Then we won’t acknowledge ’em.  No Debborough for me!”