"Well, sir, he did nothing but hint, saying he was a gentleman of high rank, as could be seen from his manners, and that he had enlisted because of a quarrel he had with his grandfather. But I never knew he was Sir Simon's grandson until I lost him," sobbed Jane. "Oh, dear me, and to think I would have been Lady Gore, with diamonds and fine clothes, had he lived." "Hum!" said Durham, digging the point of his pencil into the blotting paper, "so he practically told you the story of Sir Bernard." "Yes, sir, as I afterwards learned it. And wasn't that natural, sir, seeing he was Sir Bernard?" "Are you sure he was?" Jane stared. "Why, sir, he was always frightened when Mrs. Gilroy came down to the kitchen and said she was his enemy, and that if she saw him he could never marry me. I didn't know what he meant at that time, but I see now. She would have said who he was. I used to hide him in cupboards, and once in the coal cellar. Cook and William never told, being sympathetic like!" "Did he speak in educated manner?" "Like the gentleman he was, sir, having been educated at Eton." "When you saw him in the grasp of the policeman did you recognize him? Was he the same man who courted you?" Jane stared again and looked puzzled. "There isn't two, sir, that I know of," she said; "and now," with a fresh burst of tears, "there isn't one, seeing he is drowned. Oh dear, dear me. Yes, sir, I knew him at once, although the light was bad. And when I would have seen him plainer, Mrs. Gilroy would not let him be brought under the lamp." "Oh, indeed," said Durham, making a note of this. "Look here," and he held out a large portrait of Bernard, different to that shown at the inquest. "You recognize this, I suppose?" "That's my Bernard, sir." "Is it a good likeness?" Jane examined the photograph closely. "Not what I'd call a very good one, sir, neither was the other. There's a look wanting." "What sort of a look?" "Well, sir, you might call it a roguish look, of a gentleman who had seen life and had been gay. This portrait is sad and horrid looking. I should have been afraid to be courted by Bernard if he had looked like this. But he was always bright and full of larks. Then he has not got a spot on his chin as he has here. I suppose he cut himself shaving when he had this done." Durham started. Here was a means of identification. Bernard had a rather large mole on the left of his chin. "Didn't the man who walked out with you have this spot?" he said, purposely adopting the word she had used. "No, sir. He had a chin like a new-born infant, smooth and white." "Did he ever write you a letter?" Jane blushed again. "Just a short note making an appointment, sir," she said, feeling in her breast, "it being early for love letters, and me being a most respectable young lady. I carry it next my heart."