"If it were a thousand to one chance it would be wrong to throw it away. Much of the evidence that has been given can be so construed as to cast suspicion upon me. How shall I protect myself except by showing the world that I court the most searching inquiry? Lady Wharton's story is true, and some villain, personating my father, succeeded in imposing upon and robbing her. The offer of a substantial reward will not only quicken the efforts of the police, but will set a hundred people on the hunt. God forbid that I should do anyone an injustice. I cannot conceive that Abel Death is the murderer, and yet in the eyes of the public it lies between him and me. It would be the height of folly to ignore that fact. Here in this paper"--he took up a newspaper, glanced at it, and flung it indignantly aside--"is a veiled allusion to Abel Death and me as accomplices. No names are mentioned, but the inference can hardly be missed. On my way home from the funeral on Tuesday, and yesterday from the Coroner's Court, I saw some of the newspaper bills with their cruel headlines accusing _me!_ I saw the silent accusation in the eyes of the people as I passed. Is it in nature that I should sit idly down under such imputations? They are enough to drive a man mad, and I shall go mad if I do not do something quickly to repel them. The wretch who went down to Bournemouth must have purchased a railway ticket; the clerk who sold it him may have seen his face; passengers travelling the same way must have seen him: he must have been seen by other persons in Bournemouth; he may have taken a carriage there to drive to the Gables; if he went on foot he may have asked his way to the house; when he left Lady Wharton he could scarcely have walked about the town till the trains started in the morning; he must have slept somewhere; a waiter or a chambermaid may have noticed him; there may have been something in his speech or manner to attract attention, however slight. There are a thousand things from which a clue may be obtained and which may be brought to the recollection by the hope of earning money. The offer of a reward will stir people's memories, will cause them to come forward with scraps of information which otherwise would be thought of no importance. Uncle Rob, Aunt Rob--I dare not, and will not, call you father and mother till I am cleared of these vile suspicions--do you not see that I _must_ do this for dear Florence's sake, that it is my duty to make her less ashamed of the name I gave her?" The sobs in his throat prevented him from continuing. Trembling in every limb, shaking with passion and excitement, he turned appealingly to his wife.