"My house," corrected the other. "Yes, I've got an old option, depending on a ground-lease, that's come down in the family."
"What family?"
"The Forsyths. My grandmother was born in that house."
"Then our portrait of the Yank—of the American who looks like you at Guenn Oaks is your great-grandfather."
"I suppose so."
"Well met!" said Lord Guenn. "There are some sketches of the Forsyth place as it used to be at Guenn Oaks that would interest you. My ancestor was a bit of a dab with his brush."
"Indeed they'd interest me," returned the Tyro, "if they show the old boundary-lines. My claim on which I hope to buy in the property rests on the original lot, and that's in question now. There are some other people trying to hold me off—But that's another matter," he concluded hastily, as he recalled who his rival was.
"Quite the same matter. It's Cecily Wayne, isn't it?"
"Her father, I suppose. And as far as any evidence in your possession goes, of course I couldn't expect—considering that Miss Wayne's interests are involved—"
"Why on earth not, my dear fellow?"