‘I expect I’ll make you very much ashamed of yourself,’ says Wyndham, ‘and that almost immediately. An abduction has a very unpleasant sound nowadays, and generally means trouble to the principal actor in it. I’d advise you to sit down and let us talk sense. I know all your dealings with this—this young lady, and they scarcely redound to your credit. In fact, I am pretty sure they would lead you into mischief—and six months’ hard labour—if eloquently stated. That is the very least you would get—unless——’ ‘Six months! I am going abroad on Thursday next.’ ‘Are you? I wouldn’t be too sure, if I were you,’ says Wyndham grimly. ‘It’s as bad a case of persecution as I have ever gone into. And I may as well say at once that, if you persist in your determination to carry off this poor child against her will, I shall call in the village police and expose the whole matter.’ Moore, who has been cowed by Wyndham’s name and the stern air of the barrister, in spite of his show of defiance, falters here, and the result of the long conversation that ensues between the two men leaves all in Wyndham’s hands. At the end, seeing the game was up, Moore gave in unconditionally. He acknowledged that Ella’s name was not Moore. It was Haynes. She was no relation of his or his wife’s, but undoubtedly her mother had left the girl to their charge when dying, and as she was useful and his wife was fond of her, they kept her with them. Her father was dead. Mrs. Haynes had always been very reticent. He was of opinion that she had once been in better circumstances. Haynes was not respectable—he, Moore, had an idea that his father had cast him off. He was not at all sure that Haynes was his real name. He had, indeed, reasons for thinking it wasn’t, but he had never been able to discover anything; and when the child was left to them, his wife had insisted on calling her Moore. She had gone by that name ever since.