“I suppose a great deal of money was spent on both sides,” she replied, “until that sudden, awful issue—­”

“Which settled the dispute effectually,” he interrupted with a dry chuckle.  “Of course, it is very doubtful if any reputable solicitor would have taken up the case.  Timothy Beddingfield, the Birmingham lawyer, is a gentleman who—­well—­has had some misfortunes, shall we say?  He is still on the rolls, mind you, but I doubt if any case would have its chances improved by his conducting it.  Against that there is just this to be said, that some of these old peerages have such peculiar histories, and own such wonderful archives, that a claim is always worth investigating—­you never know what may be the rights of it.

“I believe that, at first, every one laughed over the pretensions of the Hon. Robert Ingram de Genneville to the joint title and part revenues of the old barony of Genneville, but, obviously, he might have got his case.  It certainly sounded almost like a fairy-tale, this claim based upon the supposed validity of an ancient document over 400 years old.  It was then that a mediaeval Lord de Genneville, more endowed with muscle than common sense, became during his turbulent existence much embarrassed and hopelessly puzzled through the presentation made to him by his lady of twin-born sons.

“His embarrassment chiefly arose from the fact that my lady’s attendants, while ministering to the comfort of the mother, had, in a moment of absent-mindedness, so placed the two infants in their cot that subsequently no one, not even—­perhaps least of all—­the mother, could tell which was the one who had been the first to make his appearance into this troublesome and puzzling world.

“After many years of cogitation, during which the Lord de Genneville approached nearer to the grave and his sons to man’s estate, he gave up trying to solve the riddle as to which of the twins should succeed to his title and revenues; he appealed to his Liege Lord and King—­Edward, fourth of that name—­and with the latter’s august sanction he drew up a certain document, wherein he enacted that both his sons should, after his death, share his titles and goodly revenues, and that the first son born in wedlock of either father should subsequently be the sole heir.

“In this document was also added that if in future times should any Lords de Genneville be similarly afflicted with twin sons, who had equal rights to be considered the eldest born, the same rule should apply as to the succession.

“Subsequently a Lord de Genneville was created Earl of Brockelsby by one of the Stuart kings, but for four hundred years after its enactment the extraordinary deed of succession remained a mere tradition, the Countesses of Brockelsby having, seemingly, no predilection for twins.  But in 1878 the mistress of Brockelsby Castle presented her lord with twin-born sons.

“Fortunately, in modern times, science is more wide-awake, and attendants more careful.  The twin brothers did not get mixed up, and one of them was styled Viscount Tirlemont, and was heir to the earldom, whilst the other, born two hours later, was that fascinating, dashing young Guardsman, well known at Hurlingham, Goodwood, London, and in his own county—­the Hon. Robert Ingram de Genneville.