lift the broken attorney again upon the wheel,--again to roll down, it
may be; but that is your affair."

"'Fore Gad, open the case," cried Grabman, eagerly, and shoving aside the
ignoble relics of his supper, he leaned his elbows on the table and his
chin on his damp palms, while eyes that positively brightened into an
expression of greedy and relentless intelligence were fixed upon his
visitor.

"The case runs thus," said Jason. "Once upon a time there lived, at an
old house in Hampshire called Laughton, a wealthy baronet named St. John.
He was a bachelor, his estates at his own disposal. He had two nieces
and a more distant kinsman. His eldest niece lived with him,--she was
supposed to be destined for his heiress; circumstances needless to relate
brought upon this girl her uncle's displeasure,--she was dismissed his
house. Shortly afterwards he died, leaving to his kinsman--a Mr. Vernon-
-his estates, with remainder to Vernon's issue, and in default thereof,
first to the issue of the younger niece, next to that of the elder and
disinherited one. The elder married, and was left a widow without
children. She married again, and had a son. Her second husband, for
some reason or other, conceived ill opinions of his wife. In his last
illness (he did not live long) he resolved to punish the wife by robbing
the mother. He sent away the son, nor have we been able to discover him
since. It is that son whom you are to find."

"I see, I see; go on," said Grabman. "This son is now the remainderman.
How lost? When? What year? What trace?"

"Patience. You will find in this paper the date of the loss and the age
of the child, then a mere infant. Now for the trace. This husband--did