“All these things you can follow out for yourself in detail in the papers I will leave with you.  This Joseph had a brother Thomas, and his age corresponds very well with that of your own brother Joseph.  Thomas Tomalin has left no trace, except the memory of his name preserved by the wife of Joseph, and handed on to her son, who, in turn, spoke of Thomas to his wife, who has been heard by Mrs. Rooke (her sister) to mention that fact in the family history.  What is more, I find a vague tradition that a sister of Joseph and Thomas made a brilliant marriage.”

“How is it that your advertisements were never seen by these people—­these Rookes?”

“So it happened, that’s all one can say.  I have known many such failures.  May Tomalin was born at Toronto, where he? father, also a Joseph, died in ’80.  Her mother, an Englishwoman, came back to England in ’81, bringing May, the only child; she settled at Northampton, and, on her death in the following year, May passed into the care of the Rookes.  She has no surviving relative of her own name.  Her father, a builder, left a little money, which now provides the young lady with her income.”

Prom a state of choleric flurry Lady Ogram was passing into irritable delight.

“Better late than never,” she exclaimed, “but I can’t see why you didn’t find the girl ages ago.  Haven’t you advertised in Canada?”

“No.  We knew that your brothers went to Australia.  Thomas, no doubt, died there.  The story of Joseph’s wanderings is irrecoverable; we must be content to have satisfactory evidence of his death, and of this girl’s descent from him.”

“Well, and why haven’t you brought her?”

“I saw no need for such precipitancy.  Miss Tomalin has not yet been informed of what is going on.  Of course, she is her own mistress, free to accept any invitation that may be offered her.  The Rookes seem to be quiet people, in easy circumstances; no trouble of any kind is to be feared from them.  You may act at your leisure.  Here is the address.  Of course if you would like me to return to Northampton—­”

“She must come at once!” said Lady Ogram, starting up.  “Would the Crows understand a telegram?”

“The Rookes, you mean?  I think it would be better to write.  Naturally, I have not let them know your name.  At first I found Mr. Rooke rather disposed to stand upon his dignity; but a firm of Northampton solicitors vouched for my bona fides, and then things were smoother.  No, I don’t think I would telegraph.”

“Then go to Northampton, and bring the girl back with you.”

“If you wish it.”

“When is there a train?—­Oh, there’s the luncheon bell.  Of course you must eat.  Come and eat.  I have some one staying here that I should like you to know our Liberal candidate at the next election.”

“Oh, so you have found one?”

“Of course I have.  Didn’t I write to tell you?  A lot of people dine here this evening to meet him.  Perhaps you could stay over night?  Yes, now I come to think of it, I should like you to dine with us.  You shall go to Northampton to-morrow.  Write to Rooky this afternoon.”  Lady Ogram grew sportive.  “Prepare him.  Come along, now, to lunch; you look hungry.”