"His father's son," she said with a sigh. "Yes, his father's son," she repeated with meaning. "Must it be done to-day?"
"Don't let us procrastinate, dear lady. Shall I send for him? He is awaiting our summons."
The widow nodded, and Spunyarn went to seek the youth, who in a few minutes was to be stripped of name and fame and wealth.
So far from suspecting a communication of an unpleasant nature, young Lucius Haggard, his face wreathed in anticipatory smiles, was impatiently drumming upon the window-pane in the library with his finger-tips. It seemed to him that this formal interview with his mother and his father's executor could have but one object, namely, to announce to him that a suitable provision was to be made for the heir to the Pit Town title during the short time that must necessarily elapse ere he should come into his heritage. But his anticipations were considerably damped by Lord Spunyarn's first words. The elder man placed his hand affectionately upon the young fellow's shoulder.
"Lucius, my poor boy," he said, "prepare yourself for a surprise, and a great disappointment," he added ominously.
The happy smile of anticipation left the young fellow's face as he heard the words.
"Well, Lord Spunyarn," he said, "when my father cut me off without even the proverbial shilling, I thought he had done the worst he could for me."
Lord Spunyarn took no notice of the remark.