“I am quite at your service, sir.” “Thanks, Major. Now, in the first place, where am I?” “Your pardon, Mr. Winthrop?” asked the Major, startledly. “I mean,” answered the other, with a smile, “is this Waynewood and does it belong to me?” [96] [96] “This is certainly Waynewood, sir, and I have gathered from your letter that you had come into possession of it.” “All right. Then who, if I may ask the question without seeming impertinent, who are the ladies down-stairs?” “Ah, Mr. Winthrop, I understand your question now,” returned the Major. “Allow me to explain. I would have done so before had there been opportunity, but your letter said that you were leaving New York at once and I presumed that there would be no time for an answer to reach you.” “Quite right, Major.” “The ladies are Miss India Wayne and her niece, Miss Holly Wayne, sister and daughter respectively of my very dear and much lamented friend Captain Lamar Wayne, whose home this was for many years. At his death I found myself the executor of his will, sir. He left this estate and very little else but debts. I did the best I could, Mr. Winthrop, but Waynewood had to go. It was sold to a Judge[97] Linderman of Georgia, a very estimable gentleman and a shining light of the State Bar. As he had no intention of living here I made an arrangement with him whereby Miss India and her niece might remain here in their home, sir, paying a—a nominal rent for the place.” [97] “A very convenient arrangement, Major.” “I am glad to hear you say so,” replied the Major, almost eagerly. “Judge Linderman, however, was a consarned fool, sir, and couldn’t let speculation alone. He was caught in a cotton panic and absolutely ruined. Waynewood then passed to your late partner, Mr. Potter. The arrangement in force before was extended with his consent, and the ladies have continued to reside here. They are paying”—(the Major paused and spat voluminously into the fire)—“they are paying, Mr.
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