"It is sure to. A woman who would try and save her son by accusing an innocent man would not remain quiet to see him hanged. By the way, Miss Berengaria is in town, I believe?" "Yes, with Miss Randolph and Alice. They are stopping at the Waterloo Hotel, Guelph Street. I believe they expect you along to dinner this evening." Durham nodded. "I received a note from the old lady, and intend to come. By the way, Dick, I hope you are fascinating her. Remember, she can leave you five thousand a year, and can't last much longer." "I believe Miss Berengaria will see her century," said Dick. "Besides, now you have my affairs in order, I have enough to live on." "But not enough to marry on," said Durham, significantly. Conniston flushed. "If you speak of Lucy," he said, "she has a little money of her own, and our two incomes will keep us alive." "It won't keep up the dignity of the title." "Oh, the deuce take the dignity of that," said Conniston, carelessly. "In this democratic age who cares for titles?" "The Americans, Dick. You ought to marry one." "I'll marry Lucy, who is the sweetest girl in the world," said Dick, firmly. "We understand one another, and as soon as this business is over, Mark----" "You will marry." "No. Bernard and I will go out to the Front." "What! Does Bernard say that?" "Yes. He intends to go back to his Imperial Yeomanry uniform, and I honor him for it," said Dick, with some heat. "Bernard is not the man to sneak out of doing his duty. And Miss Malleson approves. I go out to the Front also, and daresay I shall manage to get a place of sorts, from which to take pot-shots at the enemy." "But, my dear fellow," said Durham, much disturbed, "you may be killed." "'Naught was never in danger,'" said Conniston, opening the door. "You get Bernard out of this scrape, Mark, and then come and see us start. We'll return covered with glory." "And without legs or arms," said Durham, crossly. "Just as if Bernard hadn't enough danger, he must needs run his head into more. Go away, Dick. It's your feather brain that has made him stick to his guns." "Not a bit," retorted Conniston, slipping out, "it's Bernard's own idea. Good-bye, Mark. I hope you will recover your temper by the time we meet at Aunt Berengaria's hospitable table." Things fell out as Durham prophesied. The article was published in all the London and country journals, and provoked both praise and blame. Many said that it was wrong to hint that a man was guilty before he had been tried. Others pointed to the sufferings that the innocent Bernard Gore had undergone, and insisted that even before the trial his name should be cleared. Those in authority took no notice of the storm thus raised, which seemed to confirm Durham's statement that the article had been inspired from high legal quarters. But the result of the publication and discussion of the matter was that one day a woman came to see Durham at his office.