"No," said Percival, rising from his chair and glancing at Dino, who had stood by without speaking, throughout the lawyer's exposition of the papers. Then, very ungraciously: "I suppose I owe this gentleman in ecclesiastical attire--I hardly know what to call him--some sort of apology. I see that I was mistaken in what I said." "My dear sir, I am sure Mr. Luttrell will make allowance for words spoken in the heat of the moment. No doubt it was a shock to you," said Mr. Brett, with ready sympathy, for which Percival hated him in his heart. His brow contracted, and he might have said something uncivil had Dino not come forward with a few quiet words, which diverted him from his purpose. "If Mr. Heron thinks that he was mistaken," he said, "he will not refuse now to hear what I wished to say before we left his house. It will be simple justice to listen to me." "Very well," answered Percival, frowning and looking down. "I will listen." "Could we, for a few moments only, have a private room?" said Dino to Mr. Brett, with some embarrassment. "You won't want me again?" said that cheerful gentleman, locking his desk. "Then, if you won't think me uncivil, I'll leave you altogether. My clerk is in the outer room, if you require him. I have a dinner engagement at eight o'clock which I should like to keep. Good-bye, Mr. Heron; sorry for your disappointment. Good-bye, Mr. Luttrell; I wish you wouldn't don that monkish dress of yours. It makes you look so un-English, you know. And, after all, you are not a monk, and never will be." "Do not be too sure of that," said Dino, smiling. Mr. Brett departed, and the two young men were left together. Percival was standing, vexation and impatience visible in every line of his handsome features. He gave his shoulders a shrug as the door closed behind Mr. Brett, and turned to the fire. "And now, Mr. Heron," said Dino, "will you listen to my proposition?" He spoke in Italian, not English, and Percival replied in the same language. "I have said I would listen." "It refers to Brian Luttrell--the man who has borne that name so long that I think he should still be called by it." "Ah! You have proved to me that Mr. Brett believes your story, and you have shown me that your case is a plausible one; but you have not proved to me that the man Stretton is identical with Brian Luttrell." "It is not necessary that that should be proved just now. It can be proved; but we will pass over that point, if you please. I am sorry that what I have to say trenches somewhat on your private and personal affairs, Mr. Heron. I can only entreat your patience for a little time. Your marriage with Miss Murray----" "Need that be dragged into the discussion?" "It is exactly the point on which I wish to speak." "Indeed." Percival pulled the lawyer's arm-chair towards him, seated himself, and pulled his moustache. "I understand. You are Mr. Stretton's emissary!"