"It's not very interesting," said he. "And it's soon told. I was a ragged boy in a slum in a Lancashire town. I slept on sacking in a scullery, and very seldom had enough to eat. The woman whom I didn't think was my mother ill-treated me. I gather now that she hated me because she hated my father. She deserted him when I was a year old and disappeared; she never spoke of him. I don't know exactly how old I am. I chose a birthday at random. As a child I worked in a factory. You know what child-labour in factories was some years ago. I might have been there still, if my dear old friend there hadn't helped me when I was thirteen to run away. He used to go through the country in a van selling mats and chairs. He brought me to London, and found me a lodging with Miss Seddon's mother. So, Miss Seddon and I were children together. I became an artist's model. When I grew too old for that to be a dignified occupation, I went on the stage. Then one day, starving and delirious, I stumbled through the gates of Drane's Court and fell at Miss Winwood's feet. That's all." "Since we've begun, we may as well finish and get it over," said Colonel Winwood, still with bent head, but looking at Paul from beneath his eyebrows. "When and how did you come across this gentleman who you say is your father?" Paul told the story in a few words. "And now that you have heard everything," said he, "would you think me justified in withdrawing my candidature?" "Certainly not," said the Colonel. "You've got your duty to the Party." "And you, Miss Winwood?" "Can you ask? You have your duty to the country." "And you, Princess?" She met his challenging eyes and rose in a stately fashion. "I am not equal to these complications of English politics, Mr. Savelli," she said. She held herself very erect, but her lips trembled and tears were very near her eyes. She turned to Miss Winwood and held out her hand. "I am afraid we must postpone our discussion of the Forlorn Widows. It is getting late. Au revoir, Colonel Winwood--" "I will see you to your carriage." On the threshold she turned, included Paul in a vague bow to the company, and passed through the door which Colonel Winwood held open. Paul watched her until she disappeared--disappeared haughtily out of his life, taking his living heart with her, leaving him with a stone very heavy, very cold, dead. And he was smitten as with a great darkness. He remained quite still for a few moments after the door had closed, then with a sudden jerk he drew himself up. "Mr. Finn," said he, "as I've told you, I address my first meeting to-night. I am going to make public the fact that I'm your son." Silas put his hand to his head and looked at him wildly. "No, no," he muttered hoarsely--"no." "I see no reason," said Miss Winwood gently. "I see every reason," said Paul. "I must live in the light now. The truth or nothing." "Then obey your conscience, Paul," she answered. But Silas came forward with his outstretched hands.