“This was given me by your nurse at Hong Kong. She said your things were all marked with those letters when you were first brought to her. She did not know what it meant. ‘B’ meant Beatrice; but what did ‘D’ mean?” All around that bedside exchanged glances of wonder. Mrs. Compton was most agitated. “Take me away,” she murmured to Philips. But Philips would not. “Cheer up, old woman!” said he. “There’s nothing to fear now. That devil won’t hurt you.” “Now, in my deep interest in you, and in my affection, I tried to find out what this meant. The nurse and I often talked about it. She told me that your father never cared particularly about you, and that it was strange for your clothing to be marked ‘D’ if your name was Potts. It was a thing which greatly troubled her. I made many inquiries. I found out about the Manilla murder case. From that moment I suspected that ‘D’ meant Despard. “Oh, Heavens!” sighed Beatrice, in an agony of suspense. Brandon and Despard stood motionless, waiting for something further. “This is what I tried to solve. I made inquiries every where. At last I gave it up. So when circumstances threw Beatrice again in my way I tried again. I have always been baffled There is only, one who can tell--only one. She is here, in this room; and, in the name of God, I call upon her to speak out and tell the truth.” “Who?” cried Despard, while he and Brandon both looked earnestly at Mrs. Compton. “Mrs. Compton!” said Langhetti; and his voice seemed to die away from exhaustion. Mrs. Compton was seized with a panic more overpowering than usual. She gasped for breath. “Oh, Lord!” she cried. “Oh, Lord! Spare me! spare me! He’ll kill me!” Brandon walked up to her and took her hand. “Mrs. Compton,” said he, in a calm, resolute voice, “your timidity has been your curse. There is no need for fear now. I will protect you. The man whom you have feared so many years is now ruined, helpless, and miserable. I could destroy him at this moment if I chose. You are foolish if you fear him. Your son is with you. His arm supports you, and I stand here ready to protect both you and your son. Speak out, and tell what you know. Your husband is still living. He longs for your return. You and your son are free from your enemies. Trust in me, and you shall both go back to him and live in peace.” Tears fell from Mrs. Compton’s eyes. She seized Brandon’s hand and pressed it to her thin lips. “You will protect me?” said she. “Yes.” “You will save me from him?” she persisted, in a voice of agony. “Yes, and from all others like him. Do not fear. Speak out.” Mrs. Compton clung to the arm of her son. She drew a long breath. She looked up into his face as though to gain courage, and then began.