The detective spoke in a clear, ringing voice. "It's all up, Mr Burton, I won't trouble to recount your various aliases. I've a warrant here to arrest you on a charge of forgery. You've gone free for some time, but one of your old pals has peached upon you. Hard luck for you, otherwise you might have been playing still, perhaps for ever, this nice little `stunt' at Blankfield. I suppose you will come quietly?" For a few seconds George Burton indulged in some horrible imprecations. In the same breath he protested his absolute innocence, and denounced the "pal" who had betrayed him. Mr Davidson cut him short, as he fastened the handcuffs on his wrist. "Stow it, old man! Be a sport. It's a fair cop, isn't it? You knew the risk you ran when you went into this business." Mr Burton subsided. "Yes, it's a fair cop," he growled. "I don't blame you, you are only doing your duty. I've no grudge against you. But by Heaven, when I come out, I'll do for that swine who has given me away, if I have to swing for it." Pomfret had risen from his seat on the chesterfield at the dramatic entrance of the two strangers. Norah had risen also. In the few seconds that elapsed between their entrance and the clapping of the handcuffs on Burton, she stretched out appealing arms to him, and cried out in a voice of despair: "Stand by me, Jack, stand by me. I knew nothing of this. It is as great a surprise to me as to you. Oh, my poor brother! He has done this for love of me." Murchison heard the impassioned tones, the despairing appeal. They would have melted a heart of stone. What effect would they have upon the unsuspicious Jack? Pomfret withdrew himself, almost coldly, from the proffered embrace. In a few seconds, as it seemed to Hugh, he had grown from a boy to a man. He turned to the detective, and Hugh was delighted at the sudden dignity that seemed to have come to him. "You seem to know a great deal about this man whom you have handcuffed, and who admits you are only doing your duty. Do you know anything about his sister, Miss Burton?" Mr Davidson glanced significantly at Murchison. They had arranged a little conversation between themselves, but Jack's frankness had rendered this unnecessary. "What I know of the young lady, sir, I am sorry to tell you, is not to her credit. She has been associated with this man for some years. She started with him in Paris some time ago, when he was a card-sharper, and running a gambling-saloon. But to be fair, she is not in this business with him, and I have nothing against her." "Are they what they represent themselves to be, brother and sister?" Pomfret's voice was very quiet, but there was in it a suppressed note of agony. How he had loved this girl, and a few hours ago he had clasped her in his arms as his wife! The keen eyes of the detective softened as he looked at Jack, who was hiding the most intense agitation under an apparently stoical demeanour.