“They do indeed. You have heard what Rispani said—that she was a consenting party to the fraud concocted by Verinder. But her every action from the time of her introduction to me affords incontestable proof of the fact. Oh, it is vile—vile I could not have believed it of her. No one could have appeared more open and straightforward than she. I had grown to like her, Louisa—to like her very much. I shall feel the blow for many a day to come—no, not for many, because at the most my remaining days can be but few.” “According to the last note you had from her, Mrs. Clare may be here any day.” “Almost at any hour, unless she should choose to break her journey at London instead of coming direct through to the Chase.” “You will see her when she arrives?” “It will be no more than just that I should do so. Every opportunity shall be afforded her of refuting the charges which have been brought against her, but that she will succeed in doing so I greatly doubt.” Again for two or three minutes he seemed lost in thought, then he went on: “I cannot deny that, in a certain sense, it is an immense relief to me to find that Rispani is not my grandson. I have felt from the first, not merely that he would fail to be a credit to the family, but that he would be nearly sure to entail positive discredit on it, and that the unsullied name of the Clares would be passed on by him fouled and dishonoured to whomsoever might succeed him. Yes, I can afford to be very thankful that, being such as he is, he is proved to be no grandson of mine. Better, far better, that the direct line should die with me than that it should be continued in one so utterly unworthy of the traditions of his race. But with Alec’s widow it is different. Rispani the impostor we have done with; he will go and trouble us no more; but she—she will still remain my daughter-in-law; how vilely soever she may have acted, whatever she may have been guilty of, the tie is one which cannot be severed.” “With regard to Rispani and that unscrupulous uncle of his, I suppose it is not your intention to take proceedings against them?” “It would only be treating them after their deserts were I to do so. But the affair will be productive of talk and scandal enough without that.” At this juncture there came a tap at the door which was followed by the entrance of Everard Lisle. “Mr. Luigi Rispani has just left the house, sir,” he said. “I thought it right that you should be told as soon as possible. This note, which he sent me by one of the servants, explains his reason for the step.” Sir Gilbert took the note, and having adjusted his glasses, he read aloud as follows: “DEAR LISLE—After what has come to light this morning I find I have not enough courage left to face Sir Gilbert a second time; consequently think it best to take my departure and so save all further bother.