The three men looked at the woman. Her face was livid, and the perspiration beaded her forehead. Twice she tried to speak, but her mouth opened and shut without a sound. "Will you speak?" asked Raston, quietly. "Give it to me," she muttered in a husky tone, and stretching out her hand for the envelope Raston withdrew it beyond her reach. "Not until you have told us the story," he said. "If I do, will you give me the letter?" "Yes--with the seal unbroken. I do not know what iniquity you have been guilty of; but we are all willing not to know so long as you inform us of your minor fault." "I have your promise to give me the letter as it is?" asked Mrs Jeal. "Yes," said Raston, and the other three men echoed his response. Mrs Jeal nodded, well satisfied, and wiped her pale face with the end of her shawl. She then took a key out of her pocket. "Will one of you gentlemen go to my cottage," she said, "and open the third drawer in the chest of drawers in my bedroom standing opposite to the door? There you will find a parcel wrapped up in brown paper. I want it brought here immediately." "Shall I go?" said Leo, rising. "No," said Lord Kilspindie. "I have you and I mean to keep you. Mr Tempest, no doubt, has a servant whom he can trust." Tempest nodded and touched the bell. The old butler, who had been with the vicar for over twenty years, appeared. "Take this key," said his master, handing it to him. "Mrs Jeal will give you directions how to use it. Lose no time in coming back." Mrs Jeal repeated her instructions and the servant departed on his errand. Then the woman rose to her feet and began to talk with an assumption of courage which would have been ludicrous had it not been so pitiful. Still, she fought well, and was game to the last. "You have got the better of me," she said, "or, rather, that brute of a Tony Angel has peached. If he had held his tongue I could have defied the lot of you. As it is--" She shrugged her fat shoulders and paused. "Ask me what questions you like," she said, "I am in your power. I _must_ reply." "Is this my son?" asked Kilspindie, his hand on Leo's shoulder. "Yes. That is Lord Morven!" Leo uttered a cry and looked at his father with moist eyes. The revulsion of feeling was too much for Kilspindie, and he sank down into a chair. Leo held his hand, and there was silence for a few moments. "I am thankful to God that he has spared me to see my son again!" said Kilspindie, solemnly, and the vicar added a solemn "Amen." "And thank God that I have a father and an unsullied name!" said Leo, almost too moved to speak. Nor was this emotion unmanly on the part of father and son. The least sentimental person must grant this much. Kilspindie remained seated in his chair and holding the hand of his newly-recovered son. Both men fixed their eyes on Mrs Jeal, who in a cold and unemotional way continued her confession.