"Have you any reason to doubt the genuineness of this particular document?" "Yes. It was only recently discovered among Don José's papers, and there is another in existence." Señor Perkins again reached out his hand, took the paper, examined it attentively, held it to the light and then laid it down. "It is all right," he said. "Where is the other?" "I have it not," said Donna Dolores. Señor Perkins shrugged his shoulders respectfully as to Donna Dolores, but scornfully of an unbusiness-like sex. "How did you expect me to institute a comparison?" "There is no comparison necessary if that document is genuine," said the Donna, quickly. Señor Perkins was embarrassed for a moment. "I mean there might be some mistake. Under what circumstances is it held--who holds it? To whom was it given?" "That is a part of my story. It was given five years ago to a Dr. Devarges--I beg your pardon, did you speak?" Señor Perkins had not spoken, but was staring with grim intensity at Donna Dolores. "You--said--Dr. Devarges," he repeated, slowly. "Yes. Did you know him?" It was Donna Dolores' turn to be embarrassed. She bit her lip and slightly contracted her eyebrows. For a moment they both stood on the defensive. "I have heard the name before," Mr. Perkins said at last, with a forced laugh. "Yes, it is the name of a distinguished _savant_," said Donna Dolores, composedly. "Well--_he_ is dead. But he gave this grant to a young girl named--named"--Dolores paused as if to recall the name--"named Grace Conroy." She stopped and raised her eyes quickly to her companion, but his face was unmoved, and his momentary excitement seemed to have passed. He nodded his head for her to proceed. "Named Grace Conroy," repeated Donna Dolores, more rapidly, and with freer breath. "After the lapse of five years a woman--an impostor--appears to claim the grant under the name of Grace Conroy. But perhaps finding difficulty in carrying out her infamous scheme, by some wicked, wicked art, she gains the affections of the brother of this Grace, and marries him as the next surviving heir." And Donna Dolores paused, a little out of breath, with a glow under her burnished cheek and a slight metallic quality in her voice. It was perhaps no more than the natural indignation of a quickly sympathising nature, but Mr. Perkins did not seem to notice it. In fact, within the last few seconds his whole manner had become absent and preoccupied; the stare which he had fixed a moment before on Donna Dolores was now turned to the wall, and his old face, under its juvenile mask, looked still older.