“A very pretty conspiracy this,” he cried, “with a criminal, an actress, and a prize-fighter all playing their parts. Sir Charles Tregellis, you shall hear from me again! And you also, my lord!” He turned upon his heel and strode from the room. “He has gone to denounce me,” said Lord Avon, a spasm of wounded pride distorting his features. “Shall I bring him back?” cried Boy Jim. “No, no, let him go. It is as well, for I have already made up my mind that my duty to you, my son, outweighs that which I owe, and have at such bitter cost fulfilled, to my brother and my family.” “You did me an injustice, Ned,” said my uncle, “if you thought that I had forgotten you, or that I had judged you unkindly. If ever I have thought that you had done this deed—and how could I doubt the evidence of my own eyes—I have always believed that it was at a time when your mind was unhinged, and when you knew no more of what you were about than the man who is walking in his sleep.” “What do you mean when you talk about the evidence of your own eyes?” asked Lord Avon, looking hard at my uncle. “I saw you, Ned, upon that accursed night.” “Saw me? Where?” “In the passage.” “And doing what?” “You were coming from your brother’s room. I had heard his voice raised in anger and pain only an instant before. You carried in your hand a bag full of money, and your face betrayed the utmost agitation. If you can but explain to me, Ned, how you came to be there, you will take from my heart a weight which has pressed upon it for all these years.” No one now would have recognized in my uncle the man who was the leader of all the fops of London. In the presence of this old friend and of the tragedy which girt him round, the veil of triviality and affectation had been rent, and I felt all my gratitude towards him deepening for the first time into affection whilst I watched his pale, anxious face, and the eager hope which shone in his eyes as he awaited his friend’s explanation. Lord Avon sank his face in his hands, and for a few moments there was silence in the dim grey room. “I do not wonder now that you were shaken,” said he at last. “My God, what a net was cast round me! Had this vile charge been brought against me, you, my dearest friend, would have been compelled to tear away the last doubt as to my guilt. And yet, in spite of what you have seen, Charles, I am as innocent in the matter as you are.” “I thank God that I hear you say so.” “But you are not satisfied, Charles. I can read it on your face. You wish to know why an innocent man should conceal himself for all these years.” “Your word is enough for me, Ned; but the world will wish this other question answered also.”