"Crimes," repeated Hilliston sadly. "The time has come when you must know the truth about your parents. The woman who wrote this letter has been silent for five-and-twenty years. Now, for some reason with which I am unacquainted, she is determined to see you and reveal all. A few months ago she called here to tell me so. I implored her to keep silent, pointing out that no good could come of acquainting you with bygone evils; but she refused to listen to me, and left this office with the full intention of finding you out, and making her revelation." "But I have been in New Zealand." "She did not know that, nor did I tell her," said Hilliston grimly; "in fact, I refused to give her your address, but she is not the woman to be easily beaten, as I well know. I guessed she would find out the name of your club and write to you there, therefore I sent that letter to you so as to counter-plot the creature. I expected that you would find a letter from her at your club on your arrival. I was right. Here is the letter. She has succeeded so far, but I have managed to checkmate her by obtaining the first interview with you. Should you call on her,--and after reading these papers I have little doubt but that you will do so,--she will be able to tell you nothing new. I cannot crush the viper, but at least I can draw its fangs." "You speak hardly of this woman, sir." "I have reason to," said Hilliston quietly. "But for this woman your father would still be alive." "What do you mean?" "I mean that your father, George Larcher, was murdered!" "Murdered!" "Yes! Murdered at Horriston, in Kent, in the year 1866." Stunned by this information, which he was far from expecting, Claude sank down in his chair with a look of horror on his face, while Hilliston spoke rapidly. "I have kept this secret all these years because I did not want your young life to be shadowed by the knowledge of your father's fate. But now Mrs. Bezel intends to tell you the truth, and will give you a garbled version of the same, making herself out a martyr. I must be beforehand with her, and I wish you to take those papers, and read the account of the case which ended in the acquittal of your mother." "My mother! Acquitted! Do you mean----" "I mean that Mrs. Larcher was accused of the murder of her husband, and was tried and acquitted." "Great Heavens! But she is now dead?" "I say no more," said Hilliston, evading a direct reply. "You will know the truth when you read these papers." Larcher mechanically took the packet held out to him, and placed it in his pocket. Then he rose to go. A thousand questions were on the tip of his tongue, but he dare not ask one. It would be better, he thought, to learn the truth from the papers, in place of hearing it from the lips of Francis Hilliston, who might, for all he knew, give as garbled a version of the affair as Mrs. Bezel. Hilliston guessed his thoughts, and approved of the unspoken decision.