"Yes." And Durham, thinking it best to be explicit, gave a detailed account of Mrs. Gilroy's interview. Miss Berengaria listened with great attention, and gave her verdict promptly. "It's as plain as the nose on my face," she said. "Mrs. Gilroy was really married as she thought, but when she came to see Sir Simon--and that was after the death of both of your parents, my dear," she interpolated, turning to Gore, "she must have learned the truth. I think the old rascal--no, I won't speak evil of the dead--but the good old man"--her hearers smiled at this--"the good old saint was sorry for her. He made her the housekeeper and promised to provide for her after his death." "Five hundred a year, she says," put in Durham. "Ah! I can't conceive Simon Gore parting with money to that extent," said Miss Berengaria, dryly, "especially to one who had no claim upon him whatsoever." "You don't think she had." "Deuce take the man! Don't I say so? Of course she hadn't. Walter Gore deceived her--begging your pardon for the third time, Bernard--but Sir Simon acted very well by her. I will say that. As to there being a son, I never heard. But if this--what do you call him?" "Michael Gilroy." "Well, if Michael Gilroy is the image of Bernard, who is the image of his father in looks, though I hope not in conduct, there is no doubt that he was the man admitted by Mrs. Gilroy, who killed Sir Simon. Of course, she will fight tooth and nail for her son. I daresay--I am convinced that it is fear of what she said to you, Mr. Durham, that has made her go away. And a good riddance of bad rubbish, say I," concluded the old spinster, vigorously, "and for goodness' sake, where's the luncheon? I'm starving." This speech provoked a laugh, and as everyone's nerves were rather worn by the position of affairs, it was decided to banish all further discussion until the meal was over. Miss Berengaria without being told took the head of the table. "I represent the family in the absence of that silly young donkey," she said. "Oh, Miss Berengaria," said Bernard, smiling, "if you call Conniston that, what do you call me?" "A foolish boy, who lost his head when he should have kept it." "I lost my heart, at all events!" Alice laughed, and they had a very pleasant meal. Miss Berengaria was really fond of Gore and of Conniston also, but she liked to--as she put it--take them down a peg or two. But whenever there was trouble, Miss Berengaria, in spite of her sharp tongue, was always to be relied upon. Her bark was five times as bad as her bite, therefore those present made all allowance for her somewhat free speech. "We start back at half-past four," announced the old lady, when the luncheon was ended, "as I don't like driving in the dark. It is now four, so you have just time to talk over what is to be done." "What do you advise, Miss Berengaria?" asked Durham. "I advise Bernard to give himself up, and face the matter out." "Oh, aunt!" cried Alice, taking her lover's hand.