"No, my dear fellow! You don't bamboozle your uncle in that style! Not quite!" Mr. Dugdale indulged in a whistle; an act so exceptional that it showed his state of mind. A cry from Mrs. Keith was smothered in her handkerchief. More deliberately still Colin repeated, "'I' am Colin Keith, your nephew. This is Giles Randolph." Reeves turned upon his heel with a gesture of disdain. "I don't fathom your object in trying to take me in. But, I promise, you won't succeed. Look here!" He placed himself beside Giles, opposite the long mirror—both tall, substantial in make, upright, with red-brown complexion, straight features, and blue eyes dragged downward at the outer corners. Giles' sombreness was his own; otherwise the two were moulded after one model. "Coincidence! Humbug! Look at us, and tell me so again! I believe," and he glanced round once more—"I believe you mean it. You are not humbugging me! But how you can have been taken in passes comprehension. Look there!" He pointed to the mirror. "Does it need telling? This is my nephew! You—" grasping Giles' arm—"'you' are Colin Keith. That other is Randolph! It is written in your faces—branded there! Mistake! No mistake is possible. Is 'that' what you have been up to, Cecil?" She shivered under the accusing voice. "Eh? Is that it?" he repeated. Mr. Dugdale made a move. He went to a corner of the room, brought thence an oil-painting, and held it beside Colin. Hardly more remarkable was the resemblance between Giles and Mr. Reeves, than the resemblance between Colin and this Randolph ancestor. "See?" demanded Mr. Dugdale. "Now we know why it has been hidden!" "Now I know why I've been treated like a pariah!" muttered Reeves. Giles strode across to Mrs. Keith, and she cowered before him. Phyllys' heart bounded with joy; and then came self-reproach that she could be so happy when another was so miserable. "Will you please to tell me the truth, Mrs. Keith? Am I—or is Colin—your son? Is my name Randolph or Keith?" She shrank lower, till her bowed head rested on her knees; and in that shame-stricken form they read the answer. But he repeated— "My name, if you please! Randolph—or Keith!" And as if the word were dragged from her, against her will, she moaned, "Keith!" Then she straightened herself, and made a feeble effort. "I—I—couldn't help it," she stammered, and she laughed hysterically. "They—they—got mixed and I—I—when I found it out—" "Mixed!" uttered Reeves scornfully. One low murmur, "Mother!" had been heard from Colin. But the crushing shame, the overwhelming distress, of Giles' look, drew all eyes, silenced all lips. He stood like a statue, with folded arms and bent head. "I meant—I meant to tell," gasped Mrs. Keith. "I-I never meant it to go on!" "And it has gone on! You have let it go on, all their lives! Colin for Giles! Giles for Colin! Though you are my sister, I say it is 'scandalous!'" Reeves stopped.