"He had behaved like a scoundrel," said Hugh Ritson.
"True, and he felt remorse. After the second marriage he set people to find the poor woman and child. They were never found. His last days were overshadowed by his early fault. I believe he died broken-hearted. In his will—I drew it for him—he left, as I say, a sum to be paid to this son of his first wife—when found."
Hugh Ritson laughed half mockingly.
"I thought he was a fool. A scoundrel is generally a fool as well."
"Generally; I've often observed it," said Mr. Bonnithorne.
"What possible interest of anybody's could it be to go hunting for the son of the fool's deserted wife?"
"The fool," answered Mr. Bonnithorne, "was shrewd enough to make an interest by ordering that if the son were not found before Greta came of age, a legacy of double the sum should be paid to an orphanage for boys."
Hugh Ritson's respect for the dead man's intelligence experienced a sensible elevation.
"So it is worth a legacy to the family to discover Greta's half-brother," he said, summing up the situation in an instant. "If alive—If not, then proof that he is dead."
The two men had walked some distance, and reached the turning of a lane which led to a house that could be seen among the trees at the foot of a ghyll. The younger man drew up on his infirm foot.