"Did he say so?"
"No, not definitely, but I formed that impression. Anyhow, you can be certain of this. He will lose no time in making his claim. Indeed, I should not be at all surprised if the papers don't contain some notice of his advent and his claims to-morrow morning."
"You said something about a compromise."
"Yes, you see"—and the lawyer coughed almost nervously—"this will be very awkward for you. You've no right here; you've been spending money which has not been your own. Still, your case is not without its good points. You are in possession, you have been accepted as the owner of—all this, and even although he has the prior claim, you would have great sympathy from a jury—should it come to that. I told him so. I don't promise anything, but it might be that he might be disposed to—do something considerable to persuade you to leave him in possession quietly."
"As a kind of salve for my disappointment?" and there was an angry light in Dick's eyes.
"If you like to put it that way, yes. But, bless my soul, it is close on four o'clock, and I must be going. I can't say how sorry I am, and—and if I can do anything——"
"Is the fellow married?" interrupted Dick.
"No—nothing of that sort. After all, no one but he stands in the way of possession."
"What shall I do?" Dick asked himself. "I'm worse off than I was before. At any rate I was in the way of earning a few hundred pounds when that wireless came. But now everything is altered, and I don't know where to turn. Still——" and there was a grim, hard look in his eyes.
Slowly he walked down the avenue towards the lodge gates. Away in the distance, as though coming towards him, he saw a young girl. It was Beatrice Stanmore. He took a few steps towards her, and then turned back. Something forbade his speaking to her; somehow she seemed closely connected with the black calamity which had fallen on him.