“Well,” said Wiggins, “I can understand that only too well. Unfortunately he recognized Wilkins. My porter is unknown here, but any one from Lionel's place whose memory reaches back ten years will easily know him--the desperate poacher and almost murderer, whose affair with the gamekeeper of Dudleigh Manor cost him a sentence of transportation for twenty years. His face is one that does not change much, and so he was recognized at once. He came to me in a terrible way, frightened to death for fear of a fresh arrest; but I calmed him. I went to the lodge myself, and yesterday I saw _him_. I knew him at once, of course.” “But did he recognize you?” cried Mrs. Dunbar, in a voice full of fresh agitation. “I fear so,” said Wiggins. At this Mrs. Dunbar started to her feet, and stared at Wiggins with a face full of terror. Then gradually her strength failed, and she sank back again, but her face still retained the same look. “He did not recognize me at first,” said Wiggins. “He seemed puzzled; but as I talked with him, and heard his threats about Wilkins, and about what he called Edith's imprisonment, he seemed gradually to find out all, or to surmise it. It could not have been my face; it must have been my voice, for that unfortunately has not changed, and he once knew that well, in the old days when he was visiting here. At any rate, he made it out, and from that moment tried to impress upon me that I was in his power.” “And did you tell him--all?” “I--I told him nothing. I let him think what he chose. I was not going, to break through my plans for his sake, nor for the sake of his foolish threats. But in thus forbearing I had to tolerate him, and hence this visit. He thinks that I am in his power. He does, not understand. But I shall have to let him come here, or else make every thing known, and for that I am not at all prepared as yet. But oh, if it had only been Lionel!--if it had only been Lionel!” “And so,” said Mrs. Dunbar, after a long silence, “he knows all.” “He knows nothing,” said Wiggins. “It is his ignorance and my own patient waiting that make him bold. But tell me this--did he recognize you?” At this question Mrs. Dunbar looked with a fixed, rigid stare at Wiggins. Her lips quivered. For a moment she could not speak. “He--he looked at me,” said she, in a faltering voice--“he looked at me, but I was so overcome at the sight of him that my brain whirled. I was scarcely conscious of any thing. I heard him ask for Edith, and I hurried away. But oh, how hard--how hard it is! Oh, was ever any one in such a situation? To see him here--to see that face and hear that voice! Oh, what can I do--what can I do?”