"The name of my foster-mother who brought me up. For years I have been called Maud Ellis, but only when Mr. Hale came to see me bringing the cross did I learn my true name and parentage." "Why did your foster-mother call you Ellis?" asked Jabez. "She passed me off to the world as her sister's child," said Maud glibly. "Why? I cannot see the need." "Nor I," said Miss Ellis, with a swift glance at Hale. "But who knows the human heart, Mr. Jabez?" "No one so far as I know. But you were saying----" "If you will permit me to tell my story I can make everything clear." "I am quite certain that you can," said the lawyer, politely ironical. "Go on." "Mrs. Tait kept a lodging-house in Bloomsbury. My mother lived there after leaving her husband--my father, who treated her very badly. I am right," she added turning to Hale, "in saying this?" "He behaved like a brute," said Hale emphatically, "but then he always was a brute I am sorry to say." "Dear me," murmured Jabez, "proceed, please." "My mother left me with Mrs. Tait, as she had very little money and went to seek out my father at Wimbledon one bitterly cold, snowy day. He turned her from his door, and she nearly perished in the snow. Fortunately this good man," Maud glanced pathetically at Hale, who tried not to look too conscious, "took in the starving and chilled woman. My mother died, and I was left to Mrs. Tait's kind care." "What about the cross?" asked Jabez abruptly, stifling a yawn. "I can explain that," interposed Hale quickly, "indeed I have already done so. It was given to my wife and----" "Of course: of course, I remember now. Well," Jabez turned to Maud, "so you remained with Mrs. Tait." "Until she died. Then her husband adopted me as his niece and with him I lived, retaining my name of Maud Ellis." "There was a husband then?" "Yes," said Hale anxiously, "you may know of him, Mr. Michael Tait, the stockbroking philanthropist." "Oh," drawled the solicitor quietly, "the same man who lost his jewels the other day." "Yes," admitted Hale, quite ignorant of how much Jabez knew, "the same. He was poor when Miss Morse--or Miss Ellis if you like--came to his wife, and Mrs. Tait kept a boarding-house to help him. Then Tait made a lucky speculation--he was a clerk in the City--and began to grow rich. But before he could make a fortune Mrs. Tait died, and thus never benefited." "No, poor dear, and she was so very kind," said Maud sweetly, "however, when my uncle grew rich----" "Your uncle?" queried Jabez. Maud coloured to the roots of her sandy hair. "I have fallen into the habit of calling my friend Mr. Tait my uncle. And, indeed, until the other day I almost thought that he was my uncle until I knew the truth. But as I was saying, Mr. Jabez, my uncle--for I still call Mr. Tait so--placed a magnificent tombstone over her remains when he grew rich. That is my story."