"Yes," said Mrs. Killenhall, "I have! It was one night when Miss Wickham was out—you were at Mrs. Murray-Sinclair's, my dear—and Mr. Ashton and I dined alone. He asked me if I remembered the famous Ellingham case, some years ago—something about the succession to the title—he said he'd read it in the Colonial papers. Of course, I remembered it very well."
"Well, ma'am," said Mr. Pawle, "and what then?"
"I think that was all," answered Mrs. Killenhall. "He merely remarked that it was an odd case, and said no more."
"What made him mention it?" asked Mr. Pawle.
"Oh, we'd been talking about romances of the peerage," replied Mrs. Killenhall. "I had told him of several."
"You're well up in the peerage, ma'am?" suggested the old lawyer.
"I know my Burke and my Debrett pretty thoroughly," said Mrs. Killenhall. "Very interesting, of course."
Mr. Pawle, who was sitting close to Miss Wickham, suddenly pointed to a gold locket which she wore.
"Where did you get that, my dear?" he asked. "Unusual device, isn't it?"
"Mr. Ashton gave it to me, a few weeks ago," answered Miss Wickham. "He said it had belonged to my father."
The old lawyer bent nearer, looked more closely at the locket, and got up.
"Elegant old thing!" he said. "Not made yesterday, that! Well, ladies, you will see me, for this very sad occasion"—he waved a hand at the wreath
