“But little. Letters of affection and esteem came and went at long intervals. I recollect hearing bits of them, but cannot say if the estate matter were ever mentioned. After William’s death the correspondence may or may not have ceased. His brother Owen came into the property without interference, and, dying, left a young son, Owen, who is still alive. His son Arthur, Captain Wynne, is to be here today. There are personal matters involved, into which there is no need to go. The Welsh branch is no doubt desirous in some way to clear the matter; but having held the estate for a century, they are, we may presume, not very eager to give it up. In justice to Owen Wynne, I may say that it is probable that because of a long minority he only began, as I think, a few years ago to have any doubt as to his title. I may add,” my aunt went on, “that Captain Wynne came and went during the war, and that only of late has this deed turned up.”
“And your brother is quite unfit to help us?” said Wilson.
“Yes; and unwilling if he were able.”
“I see, madam, I see; a difficult business.”
“And this deed?” said my aunt; “you were about to speak of it.”
“It is,” he replied, “a simple act of sale for one shilling, a reconveyance of Wyncote from William to Hugh, the date October 9, 1671. It is in order, and duly witnessed.”
“Well?”
“As to its present value, Mistress Wynne, there is a consensus of opinion between the Attorney-General and myself.”
“That is to say, you agree,” said my aunt.
“Precisely, madam. It is our belief that the lapse of time has probably destroyed the title. There is no annexed trust, on William’s part, to hold for his brother’s use, and the length of undisputed, or what we lawyers call adverse, possession—something like an hundred years or more—seems to make it impossible for my friends to oust the present holder. Am I clear?”