Ireland looked interested. "That is good news. Where were they married?" "In Wargrove Church. It is a parish in Essex, an hour's journey from town. Quite a small place." Ireland made the same remark that George himself had made. "Strange," he said, "that being so near town the place was not discovered before. I have no doubt that your advertisement set many people hunting. Well, I'm glad that the marriage has been proved at last, both for your sake and in justice to the woman I loved--to her dear memory. She was Rosina Vane after all." "That has been proved beyond a doubt. My grandfather has seen the copy of the certificate and now holds it." "Is he pleased?" "Very pleased. He is now as friendly toward me as he has been hitherto hostile." Ireland nodded, breathing heavily. "I thought he would be. He and I had a long talk about you on the day I called. That was when I saw Mrs. Ward and----" "You can go on," said George, seeing his hesitation. "I know the whole story." "What story?" asked Ireland, suspiciously. "The story of what happened at San Remo. Mrs. Ward I know was Violet Howard, and her sister Jenny is Miss Bull." "Yes. Poor Jenny, she was the better of the two, and now she drags out a miserable life in a London lodging-house. While Violet, who is a bad woman----" "And the mother of Dorothy," interrupted George, imperiously. "Say no more, sir." "You are quite right. As I can't say good of the woman let me say no bad. Well, you know how she loved your father." "I think she flirted with him, but it was Jenny who really loved." "And look at her reward!" said Ireland, with a deep sigh. "Those who try to do their best always come off worst. I loved your mother, George, and I have been a lonely man all my life." It was a sad case. George wished to get at the truth, but he was so sorry for Ireland, who had passed so many miserable years, that he did not like to inflict more pain. Nevertheless, it was necessary to learn if Ireland had really visited Mrs. Jersey on that night, so as to set Bawdsey's mind at rest. If George did not learn the truth, Bawdsey might attempt the discovery, and he would handle the old man in a much worse manner than George was likely to do. While pondering how he could set about his unpleasant task, George was saved from making the first step, always the most difficult, by an observation from Ireland, which paved the way to an explanation. "How did you discover the church?" he asked idly. "In rather a queer way. Lola Velez----" Ireland opened his eyes, which had been closed, and looked up. "Who is Lola Velez?" he asked anxiously. "She is a dancer whom I helped--oh, quite in a proper way, Mr. Ireland. You know the name?" Ireland, contrary to George's expectation, nodded. "There was a woman in San Remo about the time of your father's death. She was called Velez, and was in love with him."