"My dear fellow," he said with much emotion, "I loved your poor father too much not to do what I could for his widow and son. I hope you do not blame me for suppressing the truth." "No. I suppose you acted for the best. Still, I would rather you had informed me that my mother was still alive." "To what end? It would only have made you miserable. I did not want to reveal anything; but your mother insisted that you should be made acquainted with the past, and so--I gave you the papers." "I am glad you did so." "And now, what do you intend to do?" asked Hilliston slowly. "You know as much as I do. Is there any clew to guide you in the discovery that your mother still lives?" "No. She can tell me nothing. But I hope to find the clew here." "Ah! You intend to speak with John Parver?" "I do," said Claude, rather surprised at this penetration; "do you know him?" "I exchanged a few words with him," replied Hilliston carelessly. "I only came here to-night at the request of Mrs. Durham, who is a client of mine. As I paid my respects to her, she was talking to John Parver, and he was introduced to me as the latest lion. So you still intend to pursue the matter?" added Hilliston, after a pause. "Assuredly! If only to clear my mother, and restore her to the world." "I am afraid it is too late, Claude. You know she is ill and cannot live long." "Nevertheless, I wish her to take her own name again. She will not do so until the assassin of her husband--of my father--is discovered, so you see it is obligatory on me to find out the truth." "I trust you may be successful," said Hilliston, sighing; "but my advice is still the same, and it would be best for you to let the matter rest. After five-and-twenty years you can discover nothing. I cannot help you; your mother cannot help you, so----" "But John Parver may," interrupted Larcher sharply. "I will see how he learned the details of the case." Before Hilliston could make further objection, Tait joined them, and not noticing the lawyer, hastily took Claude by the arm. "I have been looking for you everywhere," said he. "Come and be introduced to Mr. Linton." "Who is Mr. Linton?" "John Parver. He writes under that name. Ah, Mr. Hilliston, I did not see you. How do you do, sir?" "I am quite well, Mr. Tait, and am just taking my departure," replied Hilliston easily. "I see you are both set on finding out the truth. But you will learn nothing from John Parver." "Why not, Mr. Hilliston?" "Because he knows nothing. Good-night, Claude--good-night, Mr. Tait!" When Hilliston disappeared Tait looked at Claude with a singular expression, and scratched his chin. "You see," said he quietly, "Mr. Hilliston has been making inquiries on his own account." "You are incurably suspicious," said Claude impatiently. "Hilliston is my friend." "Yes. He was your father's friend also, I believe." "What do you mean?" "Nothing! Nothing! Come and cross-examine Frank Linton, alias John Parver."