The American consul at St. Kentigorn felt much relieved. He had feared
it was only the old story of delusive quests for imaginary estates and
impossible inheritances which he had confronted so often in nervous
wan-eyed enthusiasts and obstreperous claimants from his own land.
Certainly there was no suggestion of this in the richly dressed and
be-diamonded matron before him, nor in her pretty daughter, charming in
a Paris frock, alive with the consciousness of beauty and admiration,
and yet a little ennuye from gratified indulgence. He knew the mother to
be the wealthy widow of a New York millionaire, that she was traveling
for pleasure in Europe, and a chance meeting with her at dinner a
few nights before had led to this half-capricious, half-confidential
appointment at the consulate.
"No," continued Mrs. Desborough; "Mr. Desborough came to America, when
a small boy, with an uncle who died some years ago. Mr. Desborough never
seemed to hanker much after his English relatives as long as I knew him,
but now that I and Sadie are over here, why we guessed we might look 'em
up and sort of sample 'em! 'Desborough' 's rather a good name," added
the lady, with a complacency that, however, had a suggestion of query in
it.
"Yes," said the consul; "from the French, I fancy."
"Mr. Desborough was English--very English," corrected the lady.
"I mean it may be an old Norman name," said the consul.
"Norman's good enough for ME," said the daughter, reflecting. "We'll
just settle it as Norman. I never thought about that DES."
"Only you may find it called 'Debborough' here, and spelt so," said the
consul, smiling.
Miss Desborough lifted her pretty shoulders and made a charming grimace.
"Then we won't acknowledge 'em. No Debborough for me!"
"You might put an advertisement in the papers, like the 'next of
kin' notice, intimating, in the regular way, that they would 'hear of
something to their advantage'--as they certainly would," continued the
consul, with a bow. "It would be such a refreshing change to the kind
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