"Sir, Joan Beverley was my mother! I took her name—Beverley—for a reason."
"Your mother! Ah, I understand it now; you are greatly like her, at times, it was the resemblance that puzzled me before. But, sir—if Joan Beverley was your mother, why then—"
"Then, Chichester has no right to the property?"
"No!"
"And—I have?"
"If you can prove your descent."
"Yes," said Barnabas, "but—to whom?"
"You must seek out a Mr. Gregory Dyke, of Lincoln's Inn; he is the lawyer who administered the estate—"
"Stay," said Barnabas, "let me write it down."
"And now, young sir," said the Preacher, when he had answered all the eager questions of Barnabas as fully as he might, "now, young sir, you know I have small cause to love the man—Chichester, but, remember, you are rich already, and if you take this heritage also,—he will be destitute."