“Why test it further? It is an incredible enough tale as it stands. I have listened to many less improbable in my time, and found them one and all to crumble under the weight of evidence. What chief witness remains to this? Why one who has never spoken the truth in her life, but whose reputation, on the other hand, would involve in its exposure the very soul of truth. I must ask you to bear in mind, Richard, that this wretched woman is still my wife’s mother.” “I bear it in mind, sir, as I do also bear in mind, and most firmly believe, that she helped Mr Dalston, who had made me fatherless, to make me motherless also.” He remained silent a little, seeming to struggle for expression. “Well,” he said at last, “it may be conceded as a plausible theory, at least. But what if, after all, so dark and fantastic a tale failed of itself before the test of daylight? You would hardly have bettered your position in that case, Richard. But let it stand at the point where it has arrived, and I, for my part, am willing to accept it on its merits.” “In which case, sir?” “In which case I should admit the moral of your more intimate claim on my regard, both sentimental and practical.” “You would not, do you not mean, acknowledge me as a grandson, but you would undertake that I received the provision of one?” “Yes--distinctly--that is what I mean.” “You are no niggard, sir, I see, in your bids for silence. Had not I and Mr Dalston better make a common purse of it, and set up trade together as murderers and blackmailers?” He drew back instantly. “You have your choice of refusing,” he said coldly. “And I refuse,” I answered, with a most bitter scorn. “I am no Esau, sir, though Fate has made me a hunter. Throw dust in your own eyes if you will. For me, I do not stop nor rest until I have probed this matter to an end. Have no fear for Lady Skene. Believing what I believe, the humiliation of your family is the thing farthest from my thoughts. It will not suffer, I think, from the vindication of the truth.” He listened to my outburst with an expression which lightened from gloom to a certain wonder. “Well,” he said, “well--if you are prepared to take the consequences of failure.” “From you?” I cried. I moved a step nearer to him. “Lord Skene,” I said, “will you please to look at me? Is there a likeness or is there not? Have not you yourself been strangely conscious of it more than once? Did not Sir Maurice Carnac call me by his name?” He bit his lip. “O! I daresay Charlie was no Joseph,” he said. “O!” I answered, much enlightened; “I beg your pardon. Very blind of me, to be sure. I may be a bastard none the less, you mean? Well, it is in the reckoning; but, for all your assumption, sir, you seem to dread the test more than I do.”