“You remember, and can now at last appreciate, the dreary loneliness and isolation of your sister’s childhood and early youth at Weirdwaste?” “Oh, yes! yes!” “And the bewildering change that Brighton and a princely lover must have been to the hitherto solitary recluse of Weirdwaste?” “Yes, yes!” “The fear of having to return to that desolation must have been as strong a motive as love itself in inducing her to fly to Scotland with her lover.” “Most probably.” “She had neither father, nor brother, nor any relative near her; no one but governesses and servants.” “Ah! my poor father never meant to be unkind, but it was cruel to leave her in that isolation.” “She found it so; and she listened to the pleadings of her lover, whom her imagination had elevated into a hero, martyr, patriot and humanitarian, when, in fact, he was only a political refugee, on account of some hotheaded revolutionary utterances he had given.” “Yes, I heard of Saviola’s exile while at Brighton; but I never met the man.” “I think your friend Anglesea had not met him at the time you were in Brighton. He first met Saviola at Lord Middlemoor’s, on Brunswick Terrace.” “You seem to be well informed on all points of this affair, Force.” “Pretty well,” said the squire; “but to proceed. Your sister went to Scotland to marry Saviola, escorted by your friend Anglesea, who, having done all he could to dissuade the Italian from running away with the young lady, and having failed, was resolved that the marriage that he could not prevent should at least be properly and legally solemnized.” “Yes, he told us that.” “And he told you also that he was bound to secrecy.” “He did.” “Well, now to the point. When the newly married pair parted from Anglesea, on the day of their marriage, they never saw him again.” “No?” “No. You heard Anglesea relate how the old Prince Antonio Saviola supposed him—Anglesea—to have acted as second to Luigi Saviola on the occasion of his fatal duel with the Duc de Montmeri, and how he—Anglesea—had denied all knowledge of the tragedy?” “Yes, I did hear, and I remembered that Anglesea was at that very time at college with me.” “Well, then, Enderby, listen: If the bona-fide Anglesea did not officiate as Luigi Saviola’s second in that duel, his double, Byrne Stukely, did.” “What!” “Yes, Anglesea’s _bête noir_, evil genius, material counterpart, Byrne Stukely, did. He personated Anglesea in Paris, on the dueling ground, and at the death of Saviola, and in the apartments of Saviola’s widow!” “Ah! what new infamy is this of which you tell me? I shall have to prosecute that villain if he should escape the law here!” exclaimed the earl. “He will not escape the law here; but to proceed——” “Yes—yes!”