“Only mind this,” the baronet concluded, “if once you say who you are as long as you’re at the university, or before I give you leave, I will be done with you. I won’t have any plan of mine interfered with for your vanity. Don’t any of you say who he is. It will be better for him. If it be but hinted at who he is, he’ll be courted and flattered. And remember, he mustn’t go beyond his allowance.”

This expression of the baronet’s desires, if not quite to the satisfaction of everyone concerned, was altogether delightful to Richard.

“May I say one word, sir?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ve not read a page of Latin since I left school and never knew any Greek.”

“Ah, I forgot your predicament! You shall have a tutor to prepare you! But you shall go to Oxford with him. I will not have you loafing about here. You may remain with your grandfather till I find one, but you’re not to come near Mortgrange.”

“I may go to London with my mother, may I not?” asked Richard.

“I see nothing against that. It will be even better.”

“If you please, sir Wilton,” said Mrs. Tuke, “I left evidence at Mortgrange of what I should have to say.”

“What sort of evidence?”

“Things that belonged to the child and myself.”

“Where?”

“Hid in the nursery.”

“My lady had everything moved, and the room freshly papered after you left. I remember that distinctly.”

“Did she say nothing about finding anything?”

“Nothing. Of course, she wouldn’t!”

“I left a box of my own, with—”

“You’ll never see it again.”

“The things the child always wore when he went out were under the wardrobe.”

“Say nothing about them. I am perfectly satisfied, and believe every word you say. I believe Richard there the child of your sister Robina and myself. It shall not be my fault if he doesn’t have his rights. At the same time I promise nothing, and will manage things as I see best.”

“At your pleasure,” answered Mrs. Tuke.

“Would you mind, sir, if I went to see Mr. Wingfold before I go?” asked Richard.

“Who’s he?”

“The clergyman of the next parish, sir.”

“I don’t know him—don’t want to know him. What have you got to do with him?”

“He was kind to me when I was here before.”

“I don’t want you to have much to do with the clergy.”

“You said I might go into the church.”

“That’s quite another thing. You would have the thing in your own hands then.”

Richard was silent. There was no point to argue.

The moment sir Wilton was gone, Simon turned to his grandson.

“As to seeing Mr. Wingfold, or Miss Wylder either, do just as you please, as long as you don’t let out his secret.”

“No, grandfather. If I had not asked him, perhaps I might. But to ask him, and then not do what he told me would be sneaking.”