"We could tell a different story, the old lady and self," he went on suggestively. "I shall have a pleasant surprise for Sir George some of these days. I'm only waiting for some papers from the other side and I shall move. My father married a Californian lady, you see, and they are pretty careless there in their keeping of records. Still, it is only a matter of time." "That is very strange," Ralph said grimly. "My father also married a Californian lady. Oh, you need not look so uncomfortable; I am not likely to interfere with your claim. Indeed, I may be in a position to assist you a little later." Just for the moment there was a queer grey tint on Vincent Dashwood's face. He seemed to be horribly frightened about something. But the expression passed, and his old saturnine look returned. Ralph was smiling, too, as if something amused him. Lady Dashwood glanced from one to the other furtively, as if she feared some outbreak of violence. There was no means of reading Ralph's thoughts from the expression of his face, or Dashwood would not have been standing there so utterly at his ease. For he was a scoundrel of the vilest type, the class who do not hesitate to blackmail women. "Well, I'll just go and look round till you have finished with the gentleman," Dashwood said airily. "Then mind that you are ready for our little business, old lady. I've got to be in London this evening, and no mistake about it. By the way, the Hall is in the hands of the firemen and police, but I'm told that no great damage has been done." The speaker swaggered from the room with his hands in his pockets, whistling as he went. Ralph's expression grew _stern and hard_. "So this is one of the crosses that you have to bear," he said. "At the risk of being curious, I must ask you a question. Is this the man for whose sake you have been raising money on the family jewels? How long has it been going on?" Lady Dashwood clasped her hands and the tears came into her eyes.