"Well, you are about the only one who has escaped--you and George. And George is too busy with every one to specialize--just yet." "Give him his head," said Maynadier; "he will settle into his stride, some day." "If he does not settle pretty soon, father will have the fainting sickness. He bought Hedgely Hall for George's wedding gift--and he still has it on his hands, with no prospects. However, no match is much better than a bad one." "George will never make a bad marriage, trust him for that--and trust your father, too." "Trust father!" she exclaimed. "I reckon I do--he is the dearest parent any girl ever had. I was only trying to be funny, and without success--even with you. It is not in me." "The trouble is with _me_--I took you seriously----" "They all do--every body takes me seriously. They will not let me be absurd, even when I try." He looked at her with a puzzled frown--was she in jest or earnest? At all events, she was showing a new side to him, to-night--or he was seeing it, for the first time---- Her light laugh broke in on him. "Confess that you do not understand me, to-night!--Well, I do not understand myself, so, let us drop me, and take up the secret--the great secret you were afraid some one would overhear, at table:--why did you shrug your shoulders, sir?" "The specific reason is of no value," he answered, "it simply fitted in with my thoughts, at the time. But the secret itself is very different. It may result in nothing, that is, nothing may come of it (which I doubt), but assuredly it is a fact." "Bravo!" she cried. "You do it well, Dick, splendidly, indeed. You almost convince me you have discovered something." "Discovered conveys the idea of going in search of," he said, thoughtfully.--"No, I did not discover this--it was thrust upon me. I just noticed it, casually. I----" "Dick, do get on!" she exclaimed. "You've got me all on edge. Out with it!" He chuckled softly to himself. "You know Sir Edward Parkington?" "Casually--he is a guest, at present, at Hedgely Hall," as though she were imparting information of the most confidential sort. "Oh, no, he is not!" "Do be serious, Dick--what about him?" "You thought you passed him, a moment ago, with Miss Stirling, did you not?" "Of course!" "Well, that shows how easy it is to be deceived. You did not." "Are you crazy, Dick? Certainly it was Sir Edward." He shook his head. "Who was it, then?" she demanded. "I do not know--I only know it was _not_ Sir Edward. He is not he!" She stared at him. "He is not he!" she repeated. "What _do_ you mean?" "I mean," he said, the smile broadening into a gentle laugh, "that the man you know as Sir Edward Parkington is _not_ Sir Edward Parkington. He is an impostor." "Dick!" she cried. "Do you mean it--are you sure?" "Perfectly sure," he answered, "perfectly sure." "But I do not understand--he brought letters to Governor Sharpe and Mr. Dulany. Were they forged?" "No, they were genuine enough." "Then what----"