feat to trace the wanderings of an obscure family back so far as he did,
but even then he seemed as far away from the attainment of his desire as
ever. There remained a gap of forty years. To establish his claim to the
title he had to prove that the Turolds sprang from the younger brother of
the last Lord Turrald, who had allowed the title to lapse for fear of
losing his head if he came forward to claim it.

It did not seem a great gap to bridge after following a wandering scent
through four centuries, but the paltry forty years almost beat Robert
Turold, and cost him five years additional search. It was a lucky chance,
no more, which finally led him to Cornwall, but it was the hand of
Providence (he said so) which directed his footsteps to the churchtown in
which Dr. Ravenshaw lived. It was there he discovered the connecting link
in the signature of a single witness on a noble charter which granted to
the monks of St. Nicholas "all wreck of sea which might happen in the
Scilly Isles except whales." To the eye of Robert Turold's faith the
illegible scrawl on this faded scroll formed the magic name of Simon
Turrald.

For once, faith was justified by its works. The signature was indeed Simon
Turrald's; not the younger brother of the last Lord Turrald, but Simon's
son.

Bit by bit, Robert Turold succeeded in fitting together the last pieces of
the puzzle which had eluded him for so long. Simon Turrald, the brother,
had fled to Cornwall, where he had married a Cornishwoman who had brought
him two sons. The elder, Simon, had taken religious vows, and established
a priory at St. Fair, a branch of the great priory of St. Germain. The
holy fathers of the order had long since vanished from this earth to reap
the reward of their goodness (it is to be hoped) in another world, but the