The colonel was in the library, turning over the leaves of a house-agent's catalogue--his favorite occupation at the present time: Ormsby had enlisted his help in search of a suitable home for his bride. "Here's a nice little place," cried the colonel. "They give a picture of it. Why, girl, what a color you've got!" "Yes, father, it's happiness." "That's right, my girl--that's right. I'm glad you're taking a sensible view of things. What did I tell you?" "You told me an untruth, father. You told me that Dick was dead." Dora's eyes flashed, and the colonel looked sheepish. He covered his embarrassment with anger. "So, the young fool hasn't taken my advice then? He wants to turn convict. Is that why you're happy?--because a man who presumed to make love to you behind your father's back has come home to get sent to the penitentiary, instead of remaining respectably dead when he had the chance?" "Father, I shall never marry Mr. Ormsby. I have told him so." "What! you've been down to the bank?" "No, I have just come from Asherton Hall. What passed there I cannot explain to you at present, but I have written to Vivian, giving him his _conge_." "Do you mean to tell me," thundered the colonel, rising and thumping the table with his clenched fist, "that you're going to throw over the richest bachelor in the country for a blackguard, a forger, a man who couldn't play the straight game?" "Did you play the straight game, father, when you concealed the fact that Dick lived? You meant to trick me into a speedy marriage with your friend." "I--I won't be talked to like this. There comes a time when a father must assert his authority, and I say--" "Father, you'll be ill, if you excite yourself like this." "Don't talk about playing the straight game to me. I suppose you've been to Asherton Hall to see the rascal. He's hiding there, no doubt." "No, he's not. It is you who know where he is. You've seen him, and you must tell me where to find him. I won't rest till I've heard the true story of the forgery from his own lips." "If I knew where he was at the present moment," exclaimed the colonel, thumping the table again, "I'd give information to the police. As for Ormsby, when he gets your letter--if you've written it--he'll search the wide world for him. He will be saving me the trouble. Swinton must pay the penalty--and the sooner the better." "I've seen Mr. Herresford, who said it was only a question of money." "Aha, that's where you're wrong. If Ormsby chooses to prosecute, no man can help the young fool. He's branded forever as a criminal and a felon. Why, if he could inherit his grandfather's millions, decent people would shut their doors in his face, now." "Then, his service to his country counts for nothing," faltered Dora. "No; many a man has distinguished himself in the field, but that hasn't saved him from prison. Dick Swinton is done for. Ormsby will see to that."