"It is. Therefore I don't think you need trouble yourself over creditors any longer. You can now pay, and wipe them out."
The old man laughed at the effect his words had produced, for Hugh Trethowen was standing in mute astonishment.
"But how do you know Douglas is dead?" he asked.
"There is little doubt of it," answered Mr. Graham coolly. "Read this," and he handed him a newspaper cutting.
Hugh scanned it eagerly, with an expression of abject amazement. The statement was to the effect that it had just transpired that the man found murdered in an omnibus at Charing Cross had been identified as Mr. Douglas Trethowen, of Coombe Hall, Cornwall. Upon the body some cards and letters had been found, which, for some unaccountable reason, had at first been kept secret by the police.
"I can scarcely believe it," Hugh ejaculated at length. "Besides, after all, it is not absolutely certain that it is he."
"Not at all," admitted Graham, with a puzzled look. "Of course, you, as his brother, must identify him."
"Yes," said the other, very thoughtfully; for it had suddenly occurred to him that he had not recognized the features when he saw the body taken from the omnibus.
"No time must be lost," observed the solicitor.
"The identity must be established at once. The inquest will, I believe, be held to-morrow."
Hugh hesitated, and for some moments remained silent.
"You see, I've not met my brother for six years,
