"I can't say no different than what I've stated," said the clerk, shaking his head dolorously. "I've got you the proofs in my hand. Though they be pilfered they're genuine, as you, being a man of education, will see at a glance." He laid two letters into Rayner's hand. The writing could hardly be distinguished in the dim light, but on his going under one of the lamps he could read the words which David Morpeth had lately written to Mr. Fyson concerning his son. One recorded the offer of the double allowance "if my son, Alfred Rayner, will agree to abandon his betting and gambling habits and turn to better ways." It bore so obviously the impress of genuineness that even Alfred Rayner could no longer doubt the truth of the, to him, appalling revelation. "You see it was like this," said the clerk, in an explanatory tone, setting his head on one side. "Mr. Morpeth's wife--your mother, was, as I've heard, a great toast in Chandrychoke, though one would not have said, according to my mother, that she was a match for him--Mr. Morpeth, I mean--his family belonging to Duramtollah, where the upper classes of us Eurasians live. But he wedded her all the same, and she worried him a good bit with her high-flown ideas and her temper and all, being a trifle light. He was always a quiet gentleman, they say. When you was born and she lay a-dying, she made him pledge himself to give you up to her sister Flo who was wed on a Mister Rayner. He once held the same post as myself in Trueloves', but he made his pile somehow and went to England to swagger and spend." The man was so taken up with his narration that he forgot he was speaking to the relative of these people. At the mention of his aunt's name, Rayner squirmed. Cruel searching daylight was stealing into his mind. Forgotten things were being brought to memory. He covered his face and leant against a tree, groaning. But the clerk, with a ring of indignation in his _chi-chi_ voice, proceeded: "And you, forsooth, were never even to be told about your father and was to carry the name of Rayner--a name a deal sight lower than Morpeth. I can show you the very house you was born in and where you was bred till you was took to England. It's not far from this veree spot. Your aunt said as how she would live no longer in half-caste holes, though she was a good bit darker than me, if you'll remember. And Mr. Morpeth, he took a bungalow for them, and they lived there like fighting-cocks till they took you away across the black water. Being a kid, maybe you'll not mind, but there's more than one in Chandrychoke, including my mother, that minds well. So why you're squealin' and fightin' with me for tellin' the veree facts, I can't see," he wound up querulously, as he tried to peer into Rayner's face which was now turned towards him, appearing ghastly white, his eyes staring vacantly. Some moments elapsed, and as Rayner still did not speak, the youth began to get impatient, and moreover, longed for his supper.