’Indeed, don’t you agree with me, Mr. Richards, the magistrates would hardly entertain the case.’  ’Then I’ll appeal; I’ll send a representation to the Home Office.’  ’Is it not to be considered, sir, whether some of these low papers might not put it in a ludicrous light?’ Then,” continued Allen, who had been most dramatically mimicking the two voices, “we heard a crackling as if he were opening my letter, and after an odd noise or two he sent to call us in to where he was sitting with Richards, and the attorney he had got to prosecute us.  He is a regular old wizened stick, the perfect image of an old miser; almost hump-backed, and as yellow as a mummy.  He looked just ready to bite off our heads, but he was amazingly set on finding out which was which among us, and seemed uncommonly struck with my name and Bobus’s.  My uncle told him I was called after your father, and he made a snarl just like a dog over a bone.  He ended with, ’So you are Allen Brownlow!  You’ll remember this day’s work, youngster.’  I humbly said I should, and so the matter ended.”

“He did not mean any prosecution?”

“O no, that was all quashed, even if it was begun.  He must have been under an hallucination that he was a stern parent, cutting me off with a shilling.”

The words had also struck the Colonel, who sought the first opportunity of asking his sister-in-law whether she knew the names of any of her mother’s relations.

“Only that her name was Otway,” said Caroline.  “You know I lived with my father’s aunt, who knew nothing about her, and I have never been able to find anything out.  Do you know of any connection?  Not this old man?  Then you would have known.”

“That does not follow, for I was scarcely in Jamaica at all.  I had a long illness immediately after going there, was sent home on leave, and then to the depot, and only joined again after the regiment had gone to Canada, when the marriage had taken place.  I may have heard the name of Mrs. Allen’s uncle, but I never bore it in my mind.”

“Is there any way of finding out?”

“I will write to Norton.  If he does not remember all about it, his wife will.”

“He is the present lieutenant-colonel, I think.”

“Yes, and he was your father’s chief friend.  Now that they are at home again, we must have him here one of these days.”

“It would be a wonderful thing if this freak were an introduction to a relation,” said Caroline.

“There was no doubt of his being struck by the combination of Allen and Otway.  He chose to understand which were my sons and which my nephews, and when I said that Allen bore your maiden name he assented as if he knew it before, and spoke of your boy having cause to remember this; I am afraid it will not be pleasantly.”

“No,” said Caroline, “it sounded much like a threat.  But one would like to know, only I thought Farmer Gould’s little granddaughter was his niece.”