It had occurred neither to her nor to Belle’s father that the secret which had been kept so successfully while Belle remained in the obscurity of middle-class life might be endangered by the publicity which she must now incur. The father continued to associate with his daughter under the name by which she knew him. But Belle’s comings and goings now fell under the eyes of more than one who knew the Marquis of Severn. London is not such a large place as some of us are apt to suppose; or, rather, within the small area covered by a dozen theatres and restaurants which some of us are apt to mistake for London, there is not much more real privacy than in a village for those whose doings happen to be of interest to the lookers-on. It did not take long for the world of Piccadilly Circus to discover the identity of the quiet, badly dressed, middle-aged man who was seen from time to time in the company of the celebrated Belle Yorke. Further than that the world could hardly be expected to inquire. It drew its own conclusions, and very naturally judged others by itself. No whisper of the discovery had yet reached the ears of the Marquis of Severn. When he heard his daughter’s name announced in his wife’s drawing-room, he had realized for the first time the danger and falsity of his position. At once he made up his mind that it was necessary for Belle to know the truth. The merest accident, the sight of one of his portraits, might lead to a scandal. He dared not run the risk of going up to her himself before the crowd. He escaped into another room, and, finding his nephew there, resolved to intrust him with the task of speaking to Belle. Gerald had always had a loyal regard for his homely and despised uncle. He listened to his confession with sympathy, and undertook to warn Belle that she was in her father’s house. But he had carried out his task imperfectly. The marquis realized that he must himself complete the revelation which Gerald had begun. He had found Belle for a moment by herself, and had arranged this meeting in a spot where he expected to be free from interruption. “Why should the marchioness look at you like that?” asked Belle, in perfect innocence, as she came towards the window, where her father was waiting for her. “That is one of the things that I have to tell you,” he answered, gravely. “But sit down, my dear, sit down.” She obeyed, and gazed up at him wonderingly as he stood before her. “I thought it better to bring you here,” he explained. “We might have been disturbed down-stairs, but no one ever comes here except the members of the family.” Belle opened her eyes. “Are you, then--what about you? Are you a member of the same family as the Marchioness of Severn?” The marquis bowed his head. “Yes, I am a member of the family. That is what I want to speak to you about. I want to tell you a family secret.”