In Queer Street

by Fergus Hume

"To do what, sir?"

"To inherit ten thousand a year."

"What?" Owain became pale with amazement.

Gilberry chuckled. "Oh yes. It is as I say, Mr. Evans."

"What?" cried Owain again, and this time louder, with a quavering voice.

"Of course; of course," the old man chuckled once more. "You think that your name is Hench. Not so; not so. You are Owain Evans of Rhaiadr, the heir of Squire Madoc Evans, of Cookley Grange, in Essex."

"And--and--what relation am I to--to--to----"

"Oh, yes. You don't know. Why, my dear sir, Madoc Evans was your uncle."

Owain gasped, and turned as white as the corpse he had seen in Parley Wood.