“Yes,” curtly responded Everet, annoyed by this questioning, yet impelled to reply by something that struck him as peculiar in Geoffrey’s manner. “It was broken by accident,” he added, “after my ancestor’s return from the war, never having left his person during all that time, and he gave one-half to his son—‘as a pocket piece,’ he said—keeping the other himself. At his death his portion was given to my father, who had been named for him, and, when I was of an age to appreciate it, _my_ grandfather’s half was handed down to me.” “And your father—_you are sure_—has the other part of it now?” Geoffrey inquired, with pale lips. “Yes,” Everet said, with a shrug of his shoulders; “we have always regarded them as heir-looms, and have been careful not to lose them.” “_I_ have a ‘pocket piece’ which _I_ have been ‘careful not to lose’ since it came into my possession,” Geoffrey remarked in a hard, dry tone. He took something from one of his pockets as he spoke, laid it beside that other piece lying in his palm, and held it out for Everet Mapleson to see. CHAPTER XLI. GEOFFREY LEARNS THE TRUTH AT LAST. It was that portion of a knight-templar’s cross which old Abe Brown had given to Geoffrey when he was in Santa Fe the previous summer. It matched Everet’s exactly, and the two fragments formed a perfect cross as they lay together in Geoffrey’s palm. Everet glanced at it, then shot one quick, frightened look into Geoffrey’s stern face. “Where did you get it?” he demanded, in husky tones, and starting to his feet in great excitement. “It was found in Santa Fe, where your father—where _my_ father lost it.” “Your father?” cried Everet, in a startled tone. “Yes, Everet Mapleson, you and I are—_brothers_!” “It is a _lie_!” hoarsely shouted Everet, recoiling, yet knowing but too well that he spoke only truth; “do you suppose I would own——”