Scrafton echoed the question with his jeering laugh. "Ringrose," said Lowndes, "it didn't amount to very much; what I consented to take I used for your mother and you, so help me God!" "Your mother and my eye!" cried Scrafton. "A likely yarn!" "I believe it," said Harry, after a pause. "You believe him?" screamed Scrafton. "Certainly--before you." "After all the lies he's owned up to?" "After everything!" Scrafton gnashed his teeth, and his bloodshot eyes blazed again. "You had my version first, you blockhead!" he burst out. "You never would have had his otherwise. Can't you see he's only trying to turn the tables on me? I tell you he threw your father into the sea, so he turns round and says I did it! Let him prove a word of it. Do you hear, you lying devil? Prove it; prove it if you can!" Lowndes stepped over to the window and threw up the centre sash very casually. "It's a warm night for this sort of thing," he remarked. "Prove it, do you say? That's exactly what I'm going to do, if you'll give me time. Steady with that bottle, though--watch him, Ringrose--that's better! So you still insist on having a proof, eh? Do you think I'd have refused your demands this evening if I hadn't had one? My good fellow, there was a man in my house at the time who is in a position to convict you at last. He has been on your track for years--and here he is!" As the door opened, Harry kept his eyes on Scrafton, and on the empty bottle he still gripped by the neck. Instead of being raised, it slipped through his slackened fingers and fell upon the hearthrug. A moment later Scrafton himself crashed in a heap where he stood. Harry turned round; a bronzed gentleman with snow-white whiskers had entered the room and was holding out his arms to him, the tears standing thick in his eyes. "My son--my son!" * * * * * The mist was clearing from Harry's eyes; a trembling hand held each of his; trembling lips had touched his forehead. "Father--father--is it really you?" "By God's mercy--only." "They said you were drowned!" "I was saved by a miracle." "Yet you have kept away from us all these years!" "It was the least I could do, Harry. The slur was on you and your mother. I had cast it on you; it was for me to remove it; or never to show my face again. God has been very good to me. I will tell you all. I am only sorry I consented to this scene." Lowndes was kneeling over the prostrate Scrafton, loosening the snuffy raiment, feeling the feeble heart, pouring more whisky into the fallen mouth that reeked of it already. "Is there nothing we can do?" said Mr. Ringrose. "He will be all right in a minute or two." "I am sorry I was a party to this business!" "Not a bit of it, my dear sir! It was what he deserved. Sorry I told you your father was a detective, Ringrose. I wanted you to believe me for once before you saw him, that was all. You'll never believe me again--and that's what _I_ deserve."