"Sure," Tembarom answered, getting up from his seat "They're in my room.I turned them up yesterday among some other things."When he left them, Mr.Palford sat gently rubbing his chin.Hutchinson wanted to burst forth with questions, but he looked so remote and acidly dignified that there was a suggestion of boldness in the idea of intruding on his reflections.Hutchinson stared at him and breathed hard and short in his suspense.The stiff old chap was thinking things over and putting things together in his lawyer's way.He was entirely oblivious to his surroundings.Little Ann went on with her mending, but she wore her absorbed look, and it was not a result of her work.

Tembarom came back with some papers in his hand.They were yellowed old letters, and on the top of the package there was a worn daguerreotype-case with broken clasp.

"Here they are," he said, giving them to Palford."I guess they'd just been married," opening the case."Get on to her embroidered collar and big breast-pin with his picture in it.That's English enough, isn't it? He'd given it to her for a wedding-present.There's something in one of the letters about it."It was the letters to which Mr.Palford gave the most attention.He read them and examined post-marks and dates.When he had finished, he rose from his chair with a slightly portentous touch of professional ceremony.

"Yes, those are sufficiently convincing.You are a very fortunate young man.Allow me to congratulate you."He did not look particularly pleased, though he extended his hand and shook Tembarom's politely.He was rigorously endeavoring to conceal that he found himself called upon to make the best of an extremely bad job.Hutchinson started forward, resting his hands on his knees and glaring with ill-suppressed excitement.

"What's that for?" Tembarom said.He felt rather like a fool.He laughed half nervously.It seemed to be up to him to understand, and he didn't understand in the least.

"You have, through your father's distant relationship, inherited a very magnificent property--the estate of Temple Barholm in Lancashire," Palford began to explain, but Mr.Hutchinson sprang from his chair outright, crushing his paper in his hand.

"Temple Barholm!" he almost shouted, "I dunnot believe thee! Why, it's one of th' oldest places in England and one of th' biggest.Th' Temple Barholms as didn't come over with th' Conqueror was there before him.

Some of them was Saxon kings! And him--" pointing a stumpy, red finger disparagingly at Tembarom, aghast and incredulous--"that New York lad that's sold newspapers in the streets--you say he's come into it?""Precisely." Mr.Palford spoke with some crispness of diction.Noise and bluster annoyed him."That is my business here.Mr.Tembarom is, in fact, Mr.Temple Temple Barholm of Temple Barholm, which you seem to have heard of.""Heard of it! My mother was born in the village an' lives there yet.