"You won't ask me to marry Mr. van Zwieten now, father?" "No," replied he, vigorously. "I intend to have nothing further to do with that man." "Ah!" she exclaimed, raising her head. "At last you have found him out!" "No, dear, I have not exactly found him out, but I have come to the conclusion that he is double-dealing and dangerous. You shall not marry him, Brenda. You love Harold, and Harold shall be your husband. But I must not lose my daughter," he added tenderly. "You shall not, father. You shall gain a son. Oh, how happy I am!" and laying her head upon his shoulder she wept tears of pure joy. For some moments he did not speak, but held her to him closely. He, too, was happy--had not felt so happy for years. How he regretted now having kept this warm, pure affection at arm's length for so long. But time was passing, and Mrs. St. Leger and the colonel might be back at any moment, and he had much to tell her. "Listen to me, Brenda dear," he said, raising her head gently. "Do you remember the man so like me whom Harold saw?" "The man with the crape scarf? Of course I remember him, father." She looked steadfastly at him, expecting a revelation since he had so unexpectedly introduced the subject. "I saw him in Trafalgar Square on the day of the meeting." "And you knew that it was not me?" "Yes; but he was so like you, that had he not been on the platform I might easily have mistaken him for you, like Harold did." "Had you spoken to him you would have found out your mistake," sighed Scarse. "I wanted to, but Mr. van Zwieten took him away." "I know--I know. Brenda, I deceived you about that man for your own sake and for mine. I took his sins on my shoulders that he might not get into trouble." "What?" Brenda's voice rose almost to a shriek. "Did he kill Mr. Malet?" "No, no," replied her father, eagerly. "I can prove to you that he did not. But, Brenda, do you not wonder why he is so like me, and why I take so deep an interest in him?" "I do wonder. I thought he might be a relative. But you denied it, and Aunt Julia said she had no relative but you." Mr. Scarse drooped his head. "Julia? Ah, she is still bitter against poor Robert!" "Robert?--who is he?" "My twin brother, Brenda--your uncle!" "Oh!" Brenda threw up her hands in surprise. "And I never knew." "No one knows but your aunt and myself, and she denies him--and Van Zwieten knows." "Oh, father! How can he know?" "I told him," replied Mr. Scarse, quietly. "I was forced to tell him, lest he should imagine the truth to be worse than it is. And he might have got me into trouble--and not only me, but poor, mad Robert." "Mad! Is my uncle mad?" "Yes, poor soul. Now I will tell you what made him mad--the same story that I was forced to tell Van Zwieten."