John took the ring and looked at it for a moment or two, as one in doubt. Then all at once a flash of recognition leapt into his eyes and every nerve in his body responded with a thrill. “Yes, I have seen this ring before—many years ago,” he said slowly. “Have you any objection to telling me by what strange chance it came into your possession?” “It was with that purpose I sought this interview. But the story is a long one, and at the beginning will doubtless seem irrelevant to the question you have just put to me.” “You shall tell it in your way. So long as the end of it furnishes me with an answer to my question I shall be satisfied.” “Some nineteen years ago,” began Everard presently, “a certain clipper ship named the _Pandora_ left New York for London having on board a number of passengers, among them being a certain Mrs. Montmorenci-Vane (that being the name by which she had booked herself), who, although she was dressed as a lady and wore a quantity of jewellery, had neither the manners nor the appearance of one. With her she had a child, a little girl only a few months old, to attend upon whom during the voyage, her own nursemaid having deserted her in New York—so her story ran—she engaged a woman from among the steerage passengers. Unfortunately, one dark night, Mrs. Montmorenci-Vane fell overboard and was lost. “Among other passengers on the _Pandora_ were two maiden ladies, sisters, of the name of Thursby, who, together with their brother, an elderly bachelor, were returning home after a brief visit to the States. The forlorn condition of the lost woman’s infant touched the kind hearts of the sisters, and they made it their business to look after the child’s welfare during the remainder of the voyage, naturally expecting that some relations of its mother would be there to meet the ship on its arrival in dock. However, there proved to be no one there to inquire for Mrs. Montmorenci-Vane, but, instead, a lawyer’s clerk of the name of Griggs, who had come to meet his sister, the latter having written to inform him that she would take passage by the _Pandora_. Well, in a photograph of the so-called Mrs. Vane the clerk at once recognised his unmarried sister Martha, who had gone out to the States a few months before in the position of lady’s-maid. There could be no possible mistake about the photograph. The captain and the whole of the cabin passengers were prepared to affirm that it was a likeness of Mrs. Vane, who had fallen overboard, while Griggs was prepared to swear an affidavit that it was the likeness of his sister. The poor man was terribly puzzled, as well he might be. He could not in the least comprehend why his sister had chosen to call herself Mrs. Vane—whence she had obtained the fine clothes and the jewellery in which she had flaunted on board ship—and, above all, what possible object she could have had in passing off the child of some one else as her own offspring.