"I didn't mind it," she said. "At any rate, I have tried to be honest. And so you claimed the estate of the Dashwoods on the ground that you are the son of Ralph Dashwood, and all the time Ralph Darnley, as he calls himself, was looking on. Has the man any bitter grudge against you?" "Why should he? I never saw him in my life till a little less than a month ago." "And he permits this farce to go on! Why? What strange scheme has he in his mind? Oh, why did he not turn up before, and prevent this great temptation from being forced on you?" The listener stared in astonishment at Mrs. Speed. A feeling of danger troubled him. He caught the woman almost roughly by the shoulder and shook her. "What is the matter with you?" he demanded. "Why can't you speak out? Who is this Ralph Darnley that you should be in such mortal fear of him?" "There is no Ralph Darnley," Mrs. Speed cried. "That man is Ralph Dashwood, the son of the Dashwood who married my sister and then disappeared. How do I know? Why, he is the very image of his father, as the latter was as a young fellow. Directly he came into the room just now I recognised him. You could have knocked me down with a feather. I have a portrait of Ralph Dashwood upstairs--I only turned it out last night. And when I show you that photo you will have no doubts as to who this Ralph Darnley is. Why he is allowing you to stand in his shoes is a mystery. When he comes to declare his identity he will make very short work of _you_, Vincent." "Go up and get that photograph," the listener said hoarsely, "I'll get to the bottom of this." The photograph was a faded one, but there was no comfort in it for the man who chose to call himself Vincent Dashwood. It was exactly as his mother had said. Making due allowances for the change in fashion and dress, it was Ralph Darnley who smiled out of the photograph into Vincent Speed's terrified eyes. "You're right," he said, "right as rain. No use disputing the thing in the face of evidence like that. But what is that chap waiting for, why is he making a cat's paw of me like this? No wonder that he could supply me with a copy of the marriage certificate of his father's second matrimonial venture when he was the offspring of the alliance. The question is, How much longer is he going to keep me on the string? Still, nobody else knows. The best thing I can do is to push a mortgage through and make myself secure with as much money as I can lay my hands on. Perhaps I may manage to bamboozle Lady Dashwood out of a bit more. At any rate, she does not know anything of this business, for----" "Fool," Mrs. Speed cried, "of course she knows. Hasn't she seen Ralph Darnley?" "Well, yes, he seems to be a prime favourite at the dower house."