"I cannot listen to this," cried Uncle Luke furiously. "Let her speak," said George Vine sadly; "she thinks she is right." "And so do you," cried Aunt Marguerite. "If you had kept the poor boy a gentleman all this would not have happened. See to what extent you have driven the poor, brave-hearted, noble boy, the only true Des Vignes. You, degenerate creature that you are, maddened him by the life you forced him to lead, till in sheer recklessness he took this money, struck down the tyrant to whom you made him slave, and at last caused him to be hunted down till, with the daring of a Des Vignes, he turned, and died like one of his chivalrous ancestors, his face to his foes, his--" "Bah!" cried Uncle Luke, with a fierce snarl, "his chivalrous ancestors!" "Luke!" "I tell you, George, I'm sick of the miserable cant. Died like a hero! Woman, it was your miserable teaching made him the discontented wretch he was." "For pity's sake, Luke." "I must speak now," cried the old man furiously; "it's time she knew the truth; but for you, who, in return for the shelter of your brother's roof, filled the boy's head with your vain folly, he would have been a respectable member of society, an honest Englishman, instead of a would-be murderer and thief." "It is false!" cried Aunt Marguerite. "It is true!" thundered the old man, in spite of his brother's imploring looks; "true, and you know it's true. Died like a hero, with his face to the foe! He died, if he be dead, like a coward, afraid to face the officer of the law he had outraged--a disgrace to the name of Vine." Aunt Marguerite stood gazing at him, as if trying to stay him with the lightning of her eyes, but his burst of passion was at an end, and he did not even realise that her vindictive looks had faded out, and that she had grown ghastly as a sheet, and tottered half palsied from the room. For, horrified by the agony he read in his brother's face, Luke Vine had seized his hands, and was gazing imploringly at him. "Forgive me, George," he whispered. "I knew not what I said." "Let me be alone--for a while," faltered his brother. "I am weak. I cannot bear it now." But the strain was not yet at an end, for at that moment there was a tap at the door, and Liza entered, looking red-eyed and strange; and a sob escaped her as she saw her master's face. "A gentleman to see you, sir. He must see you at once," she stammered. "If you please, Mr Vine," said a short, stern voice, and, without further ceremony, the detective officer entered the room. George Vine rose painfully, and tried to cross where the man stood inside the door, looking sharply from one to the other. "No," he said inaudibly, as his eyes seemed to grasp everything; "they're honest. Don't know where he is." George Vine did not cross to the officer; his strength seemed to fail him. "You have come," he said slowly, as he tried to master a piteous sigh. "Luke, you will come with me?"