"In the name of truth, be plain. My brother Paul is living."
Mr. Bonnithorne nodded his head twice or thrice, and said calmly: "You know that your brother hopes to marry Greta?"
"I have heard it."
Again the flush came to Hugh Ritson's cheeks. His low voice had a tremor.
"Did I ever tell you of her father's strange legacy?"
"Never."
"My poor friend Robert Lowther left a legacy to a son of his own, who was Greta's half-brother."
"An illegitimate son?"
"Not strictly. Lowther married the son's mother," said Mr. Bonnithorne.
"Married her? Then his son was his heir?"