"A villain, yes; but worse. He is her husband; not my father, but a second husband. My father died when I was quite a little child, and she married again. Ever since that day she has been miserable. I remember her face--oh, so well! when she first discovered the real character of the man. For years she suffered--we were abroad then-- until at last she could bear it no longer, so she fled--fled back to England, and took me with her. I think, but I am not sure, that her husband did not dare to follow her to England, because he had done something against the laws. I only guess this, for I never dare to ask mother about him. I did so once, and shall never forget the look of terror that came into her eyes. I only guess he has some strong reason for avoiding England, for I remember we went abroad hastily, almost directly after that night when mother first discovered that she had been deceived. However that may be, we came to England, mother and I, and changed our name to Luttrell, which was her maiden name. After this, our life became one perpetual dread of discovery. We were miserably poor, of course, and I was unable to do anything to help for many years. Mother was so careful; why, she even called me by my second name, so desperately anxious was she to hide all traces from that man. Then suddenly we were discovered--not by him, but by his mother, whom he set to search for us, and she--for she was not wholly bad--promised to make my fortune on the single condition that half my earnings were sent to him. Otherwise, she threatened that mother should have no rest. What could I do? It was the only way to save ourselves. Well, I promised to go upon the stage, for this woman fancied she discovered some talent in me. Why, Jasper, how strangely you are looking!" "Tell me--tell me," I cried, "who is this woman?" "You ought to know that, for you were in the box with her during most of the first night of 'Francesca.'" A horrible, paralysing dread had seized me. "Her name, and his? Quick--tell me, for God's sake!" "Colliver. He is called Simon Colliver. But, Jasper, what is it? What--" I took the chain and Golden Clasp and handed them to Claire without speech. "Why, what is this?" she cried. "He has a piece exactly like this, the fellow to it; I remember seeing it when I was quite small. Oh, speak! what new mystery, what new trouble is this?" "Claire, Colliver is here in London, or was but a week ago." "Here!" "Yes, Claire; and it was he that murdered Thomas Loveday." "Murdered Thomas Loveday! I do not understand." She had turned a deathly white, and spread out her hands as if for support. "Tell me--" "Yes, Claire," I said, as I stepped to her, and put my arm about her; "it is truth, as I stand here. Colliver, your mother's husband, foully murdered my innocent friend for the sake of that piece of gold; and more, Simon Colliver, for the sake of this same accursed token, murdered my father!" "Your father!"