But the next morning brought him a letter, which more surely confirmed his suspicions. This was from Kathleen Weir herself, and the subject of it was her husband, John Temple. "DEAR MR. WEBSTER," she wrote, "you had scarcely gone to-night, when I heard something that has surprised me greatly. It seems that Linda Falconer, in the pleasant way that we all talk of our friends' sins or sorrows, had been telling Lord Dereham, when I was singing to you, all about my unfortunate marriage, of which he had never heard. When she mentioned John Temple's name Dereham pricked up his ears. 'Is that the man,' he said, 'who not long ago came into a fortune by his young cousin being killed at football?' Now if this is my John Temple who has come into a fortune, it is a very plain fact that he should increase my allowance to something more respectable than a paltry three hundred a year. And I want you to find out this for me. I receive my income from him through a certain Mr. Harrison, a solicitor, and I inclose Mr. Harrison's address. Will you go to him and make inquiries? I will think it most awfully good of you if you will, and I shall be eternally grateful to you if I were not so already! I am treating you as a friend, for I feel somehow that you are one, and the thought is very pleasant to me. Write after you have seen Harrison, and come the day after to-morrow to supper. "Yours most sincerely, "KATHLEEN WEIR." There was no longer any doubt in Ralph Webster's mind after he had read this letter as to the identity of the John Temple who had married two women. But there was a doubt; a strange vivid doubt as to how he should act under such painful circumstances. Before him rose the sweet, girlish face of May Churchill, with her glad eyes and quiet happiness; and then he thought of the change this cruel news would bring. The light would fade from her eyes, and the color from her smooth cheeks, and a crushing sense of shame and sorrow overshadow her young life. He tried to put his own feelings out of the question. The passionate beating of his heart he would not listen to. "I must think what would be best for her," he told himself; "but at all events I will go and see Harrison, and learn the whole story, as far as he knows of it." Mr. Harrison, the solicitor, was a personal acquaintance of his own. He had given him a couple of briefs, and they always exchanged friendly nods when they met. He only needed some slight excuse to pay Harrison a visit, and he soon found one on some point of law which he affected not quite to understand.