"Yes. She is the only person who can right me. But I mean to be the husband of Dorothy Ward, and my only chance to get round the mother is to prove my legitimacy." "I don't think Miss Ward cares much for her mother." "Who could?" asked Brendon, cynically. "She is a worthless little canary-bird. But I tell you, Leonard, that frivolous as Mrs. Ward appears to be, she is a most determined woman, with an iron will. She will make her daughter do as she is bid, and will sell her to the highest bidder. As Lord Derrington's grandson and acknowledged heir, I have a good chance. As George Brendon--" he stopped as the clock struck eleven--"as George Brendon I am going to bed." Train rose to light the candles which stood on a side-table, yawning as he did so. He was much interested in Brendon's story, but the telling of it had tired him. "I shall sleep like a top to-night." "Well, get to bed. I'll put out the lamp," said George, and did so. "No," said Leonard, taking a candlestick in either hand. "I'll see you to your virtuous couch," and he preceded him into the bedroom. It was a quaint apartment, with heavy mahogany furniture and a Turkey carpet. Entering from the sitting-room, George saw that the bed was directly opposite the door. "It's been moved since my time." "What?" cried Leonard, setting down the candles, "Is the furniture the same your grandfather had?" "Yes. Mrs. Jersey bought the house and its contents. They are old-fashioned enough in all conscience. Look at that ugly wardrobe." He pointed to one against the inner wall and opposite the window. "The mirror in that used to frighten me as a little chap. It looked so ghostly in the moonlight. Humph! it's years and years since I slept in my old bed," said Brendon, taking off his coat. "I should dream the dreams of childhood now that I am back again. But you needn't say anything of this, Leonard." "Of course not," replied the other. "And you need not smash your yellow holly by leaving it in your coat all night. Put it in water." "No." George stopped the too officious Leonard. "Dorothy put it into my coat, and there it shall remain. The berries are firm and won't fall. I'll see to that. Hush!" "What's the matter?" asked Train, startled. For answer, Brendon quickly extinguished both candles, and pointed to the door of the sitting-room, which stood half open. "Not a word," he murmured to Train, grasping his wrist to enforce attention. "I heard a footstep."