"Lady Dashwood will tell you so, at any rate," Ralph responded. "I have taken the liberty of listening to what this gentleman had to say. It so happens that I can throw considerable light on the story. As I told you last night, I knew the late Ralph Dashwood very well, though I had not the honour of meeting the man who claims to be his son. Perhaps Mr. Dashwood will reply to a few of my questions. Will he tell me, for instance, in what part of California his mother lived?" "Certainly I will," Vincent Dashwood replied without the slightest hesitation. "It was in Jackson County; I understand the town was Courville." "I should say that is perfectly correct," Ralph said. "In fact, I have every reason to know that it is correct. And the name of your mother?" "Alice Montrose. But where the wedding took place, I can't say just now." "That is also correct," Ralph went on in the same solemn way. "I am in a position to prove that Alice Montrose was the wife of Ralph Dashwood. It is the legal verification of the marriage that you seek?" "That's it," Dashwood cried eagerly. "Once that is in my possession, the rest is easy. As I said before, I did not desire to proclaim my identity just yet for several reasons. But I have been compelled to speak for the sake of my honour. And if you, Mr. Darnley, who seem to know so much, can help me to discover that particular document, I shall be eternally grateful to you. Anything that I can do for you by way of reward----" "I shall make use of you, no doubt," Ralph replied. "Your claim appears to be a very strong one, and everything is going in your favour. So far all you say as to the marriage of Ralph Dashwood and Alice Montrose has been correct. You are in urgent need of the certificate. Let me make the dramatic situation complete by presenting you with the paper that you most desire. If you will look at this long slip of paper, you will see that it is a copy, certified, of the marriage in question. As you seem to be the person most entitled to the paper, it is with pleasure that I place it in your hands." Vincent Dashwood's face turned from grey to red, and then to deadly white. Then he suddenly burst out into a hoarse whoop of triumph and he danced round the room with every manifestation of extravagant joy. He would have shaken hands with Ralph, only the latter did not seem to see the trembling moist palm extended to him. "Is this real?" Sir George groaned, "or is it all some hideous dream?" "It is real enough," Ralph said. "It is a case of 'the King is dead, long live the King.' Pray allow me to offer you my congratulations, Sir Vincent." CHAPTER XXXI. UNDER WHICH LORD?