CHAPTER XIX. The sudden turn of affairs in the main-wearing case excited no small amount of comment, and for the next ensuing days speculation was rife concerning the recently discovered will, but more particularly regarding the new and unknown claimant. At the clubs and elsewhere it formed the principal topic of conversation, and Ralph main-wearing was loud in his denunciations of the one as a forgery and of the other as an impostor. To all such remarks, however, as well as to the questions of the curious, Mr. Sutherland had but one reply, accompanied by a slow, quiet smile, that on the day set for the hearing he would not only prove the validity of the will, but would also establish, beyond all doubt or question, the identity of the claimant. As a result, public curiosity was so thoroughly aroused that upon the arrival of the Umbria an unusual crowd of reporters was assembled at the pier, notwithstanding a pouring rain, and the gang-plank had no sooner been thrown down than a number of the more ambitious rushed on board, eager to be the first in gaining some bit of information or personal description. Their efforts, however, were unsuccessful, as the individuals whom they most desired to meet remained in their staterooms and declined to be interviewed. Not until the crowd had about dispersed and the patience of a few of the more persistent was nearly exhausted was their zeal rewarded by the sight of a party of four Englishmen who hastily left the boat completely enveloped in heavy Macintoshes, and taking a closed carriage which was awaiting them were driven rapidly to the Waldorf Hotel.  It was ascertained that the party consisted of two gentlemen, one of whom was accompanied by a valet, the other, presumably the attorney, by a clerk, but all efforts towards gaining any more definite information proved absolutely futile. The arrival by the next steamer of another stranger, an elderly gentleman, who immediately joined the party at the Waldorf after having registered under an evident alias, only served to deepen the mystery. Upon the arrival of the day set for the hearing of the proof in support of the ancient will, the courtroom was, at an early hour, packed to its utmost capacity. Occupying a prominent place were Ralph Mainwearing and his son, accompanied by Mr. Whitney, the sensitive face of the attorney more eager and alert than ever. At some distance from them but seated rather conspicuously, where she could command a good view of all that occurred, was Mrs. Lagrange, while in a remote corner of the courtroom, partially concealed by the crowd, was Richard Hobson. Within a few moments preceding the appointed hour Mr. Sutherland appeared. His entrance caused a sudden hush of expectation throughout the crowd, and all eyes were immediately turned in his direction. Accompanying him was a gentleman whose bearing commanded universal admiration, and whom the Mainwearing's instantly recognized as the English barrister whose connection with the case they had deemed so incredible. But a still deeper surprise awaited them. Immediately following the attorneys was a young man whose features and carriage were familiar, not only to the Mainwearing's, but to scores of spectators as well, as those of the private secretary of the deceased Hugh Mainwearing, whose testimony at the inquest had created so much of a sensation, and whose sudden disappearance thereafter had caused considerable comment. There was a ripple of excitement through the courtroom, and the Mainwearing's father and son watched the young man with strangely varying emotions, neither as yet fully comprehending the real significance of his presence there. The secretary, exclaimed Mr. Whitney in a low tone, can it be possible that he is concerned in this? He is probably the hired tool by means of which this has been brought about. I might have known as much, replied the elder man, his old hatred and wrath reviving with greater intensity than ever, but before he could proceed further his glance fell on the secretary's companion. He was a tall, elderly gentleman, with snow-white hair and beard, but with form erect and vigorous, and with piercing eyes which met those of Ralph Mainwearing with a flash, not of recognition alone, but of disdain and defiance that seemed to challenge him to do his utmost. With a muttered oath the latter half rose from his chair, but at that instant his intention was arrested by the two men bringing up the rear, one small and of uncertain age, the other older even than he appeared, and bearing the unmistakable air of an English servant. As Ralph Mainwearing recognized James Wilson, the last relic of the old Mainwearing household, he suddenly grew pale and sank back into his chair, silent, watchful and determined, while his son and the attorney, quick to note the change in his appearance, made neither inquiries or comments, but each drew his own conclusion. There was one other to whom the white-haired gentleman did not seem an utter stranger. Mrs. Lagrange, from her post of observation, had watched the entering party with visible signs of excitement. Her lips curled in a mocking smile as she caught sight of the secretary, but glancing from him to his companion, she involuntarily recoiled in terror, yet gazed like one fascinated, unable to remove her eyes from his face. Suddenly the piercing eyes met her own, their look of astonishment quickly changing to scorn.  Meanwhile the quantum secretary, seated between the attorneys on the one hand and his elderly companion on the other, seemed alike unconscious of the many curious glances cast in his direction, and of the dark looks of Ralph Mainwearing now fastened on him. At a little distance was the old servant, his immovable features expressing the utmost indifference to his surroundings, looking neither to the right hand nor to the left, not so with the remaining member of the party, the so-called clerk. Seated beside the English barrister, his eyes seemed to sweep the entire courtroom, with a glance that omitted no details, not even the cringing form of Hobson, who quailed and seemed to be trying to shrink still further into concealment, as he felt himself included in the searchlight of that gaze. But no one saw the slip of paper which, a moment later, was handed to Alfred Barton, and by him passed to Mr. Sutherland. There was a hurried filling out of blanks lying among the papers on the table, a messenger was dispatched, two or three men edged themselves into the crowd in Hobson's vicinity, and that was all. Promptly at the time appointed the case was called. There was perfect silence throughout the courtroom, as Mr. Sutherland arose, holding in one hand the ancient will, and with breathless attention the crowd listened for the opening words of what was to prove one of the fiercest and most bitter contests on record, and of whose final termination even the participants themselves little dreamed. After a few preliminaries Mr. Sutherland said, addressing the court, Before proceeding farther, your honour, I will give orders for the subpoena, as a witness in this case, of one Richard Hobson, alias Dick Carroll. Then turning towards the crowd in the rear of the courtroom, he added, let the papers be served at once. There was a stir of excitement, and a sudden craning of necks in the direction indicated by the attorney's glance, where three men had sprung forward in obedience to his orders. Sutherland, at the first mention of his name, had glanced quickly about him as though seeking some means of escape, but on hearing the alias, the name he had supposed unknown in America, he paused for an instant, seemingly half-paralyzed with terror, but the sight of the approaching sheriff broke the spell, and he made a sudden lunge through the crowd in the direction of an open window. His progress was speedily checked by one of the deputies, however, and after a short ineffectual struggle he suddenly submitted. Bring the witness forward, said Mr. Sutherland, with his calm, slow smile. We may call upon him before long, and he would probably prefer a seat convenient to the witness stand. As he was seated opposite and facing the English party, it was noted that the face of the old servant lighted up with a look of recognition, and he watched the newcomer with evident interest. Hobson, having carefully avoided the eyes of both Alfred Barton and the private secretary, soon became aware of Wilson's scrutiny, and after regarding him fixedly for a moment, seemed suddenly to recognize him in turn, and also to realize at the same time the import of his presence there, which apparently did not tend to lessen his agitation. Slowly Mr. Sutherland unfolded the document he held, yellow with age, the edges of its folds so frayed and tattered as to render their writing in some places almost illegible. Slowly, in deep, resonant tones, he read the opening words of the old will, words of unusual solemnity which caused a hush to fall over the crowded courtroom. In the name of God, amen, know all men that I, Ralph Maxwell Mainwearing, being of sound and disposing mind and memory, but now upon my deathbed, soon to appear in the presence of my maker, to make and publish this, my last will and testament, hereby revoking and setting aside any and every will at any time here to fore made by me. Man followed in quaint phraseology the terms of the will, by which the full right and title of the firstborn son under the English law were conveyed to Harold Scott Mainwearing, and all legal processes there to fore entered into, depriving him of such rights, were forever annulled. Restoring to the said Harold Scott Mainwearing, as his rightful inheritance, the entire family estate, including other valuable property, the said property at his death, to pass to his eldest living son, or in case of his dying without issue, to revert to his brother Hugh or the latter living, if not, to the nearest living heirs of the Mainwearing's. But on no account was any portion of the estate or property, to pass to the wife of Harold Scott Mainwearing, should she survive him. As the reading of the will progressed, Hopson's feelings, too deep and genuine at that moment for disguise, were plainly mirrored in his face, having for years believed the old will destroyed, as he now listened to the words dictated to himself upon that memorable night so long ago. It was little wonder that to his cowardly soul it seemed like a voice from the dead, and that astonishment, fear, and dread were depicted on his features, merging into actual terror, as the attorney at last pronounced the names of the witnesses, Alexander McPherson and Richard Hopson. For a few seconds his brain reeled, and he saw only the face of the dying man as it had looked that night, stern and pale, but with dark piercing eyes, deep set, within whose depth still gleam the embers of a smoldering fire which now seemed burning into his inmost soul. Trembling from head to foot, Hopson, with a mighty effort, regained his scattered faculties, and again became conscious of his surroundings, only to find the eyes of the secretary fixed upon his face, and as he shrank from their burning gaze the truth flashed suddenly upon him. The face of Old Mainwearing himself he buttered in horror, and added with an oath, fool that I was not to have known it sooner, that woman lied. CHAPTER XX. The first witness called to the stand by Mr. Sutherland was James Wilson. There were many present who noted the resemblance between him and his son, John Wilson, who had given testimony at the inquest, though unaware of the relationship between them. Mr. Wilson, said the attorney after the usual preliminaries, I understand you were for a number of years in the employee of Ralph Maxwell Mainwearing, the testitor whose name is affixed to this will, is that so? Yes, sir, was the reply, while the attention of the crowd was at once riveted upon the witness. Will you state how long you were in his employ and in what capacity? I was his valet, sir, from his twenty-fifth year until the day of his death, a little above thirty-five years, sir, and during his last illness of about three months I was with him constantly, you might say, sir. Do you recognize the document just read in your hearing as anything which you have heard before? That I do, sir. State when and under what circumstances you have previously heard it. At the deathbed of Mr. Ralph Mainwearing, sir, twenty-five years ago the seventeenth of last November, I was present at the making of that will, sir, the night before Mr. Mainwearing died. I heard him give those words to the lawyer, and then heard them read to him before the will was signed. By whom was it drawn? By Richard Hobson, sir, the man sitting there, pointing to the shrinking figure of Hobson. Do you positively identify that man as the writer of this will? That I do, sir, with marked emphasis. When one once set eyes on the likes of him he is not likely to forget him soon. Was Richard Hobson the attorney of Mr. Mainwearing? Ah, no, sir, with evidence scorn. His attorney was Mr. Alfred Barton, the father, sir, of this gentleman, indicating the English barrister while the interest of the crowd deepened. How then was this man employed to draw the will? Mr. Barton was out of town, sir, and as Mr. Mainwearing was dying and not would satisfy him but to have a lawyer, they brought Mr. Barton's clerk. State the circumstances under which this will was drawn. Was Mr. Mainwearing influenced by anyone to make it? He was influenced by none, but his own conscious, sir. You see, sir, three or four years before he was very angry with his elder son, and cut him off without a shilling and gave everything to Mr. Hugh, but it broke his heart to do it. For Mr. Harold was his favourite, as indeed he was everybody's, though he never mentioned his name again until the night he made the will. Well, sir, all that day we knew he was dying and he knew it, and he was restless till late at night, when of a sudden he tells us to get his lawyer. Mr. Hugh tried to put him off, and told us his mind was wandering, but to us no use, and the carriage was sent for Mr. Barton. And when word was brought back that he was out of town, it was sent again and brought back his clerk. Everything was already and he was propped up in bed by pillows, his eyes burning as though there was fire in them. He repeated those words while the lawyer wrote them down, and then had them read to him, and at fifteen minutes of twelve o'clock the will was signed and sealed. You were present during the drawing up of the will? Yes, sir. I was present through it all, but not where the others saw me. When the lawyer came Mr. Hugh told me to leave the room, but as I was going his father called me back and made me stay, and I was standing at the foot of the bed, hidden by the curtains of the canopy, so none but the old gentleman saw me. Who else was present? Mr. Mainwearing's old friend Sandy McPherson, Mr. Hugh and the lawyer. No one else? Were there no physicians present? There were physicians in the house, sir, but not in the room. How long did Mr. Mainwearing live afterwards? He died at five o'clock the next morning, sir. His strength went fast after that was done, but he rested easy and seemed satisfied. What was done with the will? Mr. Hopson took it away with him that night. Have you ever seen it since? No, sir. Mr. Wilson said the attorney, showing the witness the will. Can you swear to these signatures as being the same, which you saw affixed to the will upon that night? Wilson studied the document attentively for a moment. Yes, sir, that is Mr. Mainwearing's writing, only a bit unsteady for his hand trembled. McPherson's writing, I know, and you marked that blot after his name? I remember his fussing that night because he had blotted the paper. And the third name is that the signature of this man, Richard Hopson? I know not about that man's writing, the old fellow replied with a shrewd look, but you will mind that the name is in the same writing as the will itself, and he wrote that and signed his name to it, for I saw him. And you have neither seen that will nor heard it read until this morning? No, sir. You have remembered it all these years? Maybe not word for word, sir, but I have kept the sense of it in my mind. Are you positive that this is the will drawn up on the night of which you speak? That I am, sir. Did you ever speak to any one of this will? To none but my son, sir. Mr. Hugh Mainwearing was that sort of a man. I could not speak to him about it or ask about his brother. I asked to be allowed to stay about the old place in hopes that some day Mr. Harold would come back to have a look at his old home, and I could tell him of it, for I thought things had not gone right altogether. Then we heard of his death, and I thought it was too late. I could do no good by speaking, and I held my tongue until the young gentleman came. Wilson was then dismissed, and Hobson was next called to the stand. More even than the reading of the old will, the truth which had dawned upon Hobson's mind as he met the piercing gaze of the secretary had convinced him that the position which he had intended to assume, adverse to the new claimant and as an ally of Ralph Mainwearing's, was neither politic nor safe. His views on that subject had undergone a decided change, and with his usual weather-vane proclivities he was now preparing to take a totally different stand and strive to ingratiate himself into the favor of the new heir, at the same time leaving, if possible, a few loopholes through which he could retreat, should some veering wind change his course in another direction. Mr. Hobson, said the attorney somewhat abruptly, when the necessary preliminaries were over, did you on the night of November 17th, 18 not, act as attorney for Ralph Maxwell Mainwearing, in the drawing up at his request of his last will and testament? I believe so, sir, was the guarded answer. Did you or did you not, Mr. Southerland persisted? I did, sir. Have you, during all these years, had any knowledge that the will you drew under the circumstances already mentioned was still in existence? After a slight pause the witness replied, I had no positive knowledge to that effect. Did you believe the will to be in existence? Then reflected a moment, then replied cautiously. I was led to suppose that the will did not exist. You remember the form, terms, and conditions of the document drawn by yourself on that occasion? I do, perfectly, he replied, with more assurance. State whether the will read in your hearing this morning is identical with the one drawn by yourself. Hobson now saw the drift of the attorney's questions, but it was too late. As near as I can recollect, he stammered. But a word from Mr. Southerland recalled him. You just said you remembered perfectly. I believe they are identical in form. Mr. Hobson said the attorney, spreading out the document before the witness, but still retaining his hold upon it. Will you state to the court whether that is your writing and whether the last name, that of the second witness, is your signature? With great precision Hobson adjusted a pair of eyeglasses and proceeded to scrutinize the writing closely. Well, he remarked at length very deliberately, I do not deny that to be my writing, nor am I prepared to positively affirm that it is such. The fact is my chirography varies so much from time to time that I often find it difficult for me to verify my own signatures. Here are some papers that may assist the gentleman and may be of some use to the court, said a deep voice with rich musical inflections, but slightly tinged with sarcasm, and the English attorney handed a small package to Mr. Sutherland. They contain, he added, some specimens of the witness's chirography of about the same date as the will. The writing, in both cases, is identical, said Mr. Sutherland, as having examined the papers he showed them to Hobson, but a glance at their contents seemed to rather confuse the witness than otherwise, for he remained silent. Do you acknowledge these letters to be of your writing? inquired the attorney. I do, sir, and I have no doubt but that the other is my writing also. You acknowledge this, then, as the will which you wrote at the dictation of Ralph Maxwell Mainwearing the night before his death? I believe it is, sir. Mr. Hobson, why was this will not made public following Mr. Mainwearing's death and burial? On the day after his death I gave it to the keeping of his son, Hugh Mainwearing, at his own request, and he afterwards gave me to understand that it was lost. And you were paid for keeping silent as to the existence of such a will, were you not? I may have been," the witness replied, with a calmness borne of desperation. That is sufficient for the present. A few moments followed in which the attorneys consulted together, while comments and tones of subdued excitement and expectancy were exchanged among the crowd. Ralph Mainwearing had sat with darkening face throughout the testimony thus far. Now he remarked to Mr. Whitney, with a bitter sneer, fine witnesses, a beggarly shyster whose ous is worthless, and an imbecile old servant who could be bought for half a crown. Young Mainwearing turned upon his father a look of indignant surprise. Governor, he said, it would not be well for you if either old James Wilson or his son heard that remark of yours.  Beneath the calm exterior which the young man preserved, the old Mainwearing blood was now fast rising, but he made no reply, for at that instant Mr. Sutherland announced the name of the next witness. Harold Scott Mainwearing. There was a sudden hush throughout the courtroom, broken an instant later by a low murmur of mingled astonishment, incredulity, and wonder as the private secretary rose and walked towards the witness stand. A few comments reached his ears, but he seemed unconscious of them, and having taken his place, turned towards the audience a face cold and impassive, inscrutable to his enemies, who could read nothing of the conflicting emotions beneath that calm immobile surface. He saw the crowd of upturned faces, incredulous, wandering, curious. He caught the mocking smile of Mrs. Lagrange and Ralph Mainwearing's dark sinister sneer, but he took little note of these. Like an arrow speeding to the mark, his glance sought the face of young Hugh Mainwearing. Their eyes met, and in that brief moment there was recall to each a starlit night on one of the balconies at Fair Oaks, and the parting words of young Mainwearing to the secretary, I'm your friend, Scott, and whatever happens I'll stand by you. With swift intuition each read the other's thought, and although there was no outward sign Harold Mainwearing knew from that instant that there would be no retraction of that pledge. The slight ripple of excitement died away while the witness was sworn, and the crowd listened with interest even to the preliminary interrogatories. Where were you born? asked the attorney. In Melbourne, Australia, was the reply, while deep silence awaited Mr. Sutherland's next question. Mr. Mainwearing, I believe you are familiar with the will just read, are you not? I am. Please state when and under what conditions you gained your knowledge of this will. I first learned that such a will had existed and knew its general terms between five and six years since, through information given me by James Wilson. From data found a little over a year ago among the personal letters of the deceased Hugh Mainwearing I ascertained that the will was still in existence, and on the seventh of July last I discovered the document itself and became personally familiar with its contents. At the mention of the name of Hugh Mainwearing and of the dates so eventful in the recent history of Fair Oaks the interest of the crowd deepened. Did you discover the document accidentally or after a special search for it? That's the result of a systematic search for more than a year. Please state whether you took any steps leading to the discovery of this will during the four or five years immediately following your first knowledge of it, and if so, what? As I first learned of the will soon after entering Oxford my studies necessarily occupied the greater part of my time for the next three or four years, but I lost no opportunity for gaining all possible information relating not only to the Mainwearing estate, but more particularly to Hugh Mainwearing and his co-agitor, Richard Hobson. Among other facts I learned that immediately after the settlement of the estate Hugh Mainwearing had disposed of the same and left England for America, while about the same time Richard Hobson suddenly rose from a penniless pedifogger to a position of affluence. As soon as my studies were completed I sailed for America, with the avowed determination of securing further evidence regarding the will, and of establishing my claim to the property fraudulently withheld from my father and from my myself. In the securing of the necessary evidence I succeeded beyond my expectations. As Hugh Mainwearing's private secretary I gained access to the files of his personal letters, and soon was familiar with the entire correspondence between himself and Richard Hobson, from which I learned that the latter was demanding and receiving large sums of money as the price of his silence regarding some past fraudulent transaction. The nature of that transaction I ascertained in this marginal note, in Hugh Mainwearing's handwriting, upon one of Hobson's letters, which happened to be more insolent in its tone than the rest. With the permission of the court I will read it. Quote, He insinuates that I destroyed the will. I only gave him to understand that it was lost. Little he dreams it is still in my possession and will be, until such time as I too have to make final disposition of my estate. Why I did not destroy it, or why I do not. Now that the property is rightfully mine I cannot say, that I dare not. Thus conscience does make cowards of us all." With the discovery of these words concluded the witness, began my search for the will itself. From the discovery of this letter which led you to believe the will was still in existence, you prosecuted your search for the document until the 7th of last July. Yes, sir, whenever an opportunity for search was offered. Where did you finally find the will? In the safe in Mr. Mainwearing's private apartments at Fair Oaks. On July 7th last? Yes, sir. That was the day on which you, acting as Hugh Mainwearing's secretary, had drawn at his dictation his last will and testament, was it not? It was. Mr. Mainwearing said the attorney deliberately, his eye quick to read the faces about him. Is there in your mind any connection between that offent and your discovery of this will? Only the most indirect was the reply, given with equal deliberation. The fact that Hugh Mainwearing was making final disposition of his property naturally spurred me on to increased action, since, in making final adjustment of his papers, he would be more than likely to destroy the old will. This incentive, together with the fact that opportunity was given me for a more thorough search than I had been able to make prior to that time, combined to make the discovery of the will. Please state the time and circumstances of your finding it. I found it late in the afternoon while Mr. Mainwearing and his guests had gone for a long drive. I determined to leave no place unexplored where it could possibly be concealed. After about an hour's search I found it. What did you then do with it? I retained it in my possession, and at the earliest opportunity secreted it within my own room. It was in your possession during the following evening and night? It was. Mr. Mainwearing said Mr. Sutherland with marked emphasis. Please state whether you mentioned to Hugh Mainwearing the discovery of the will, or had any conversation with him relating there too. I made no mention of the matter to him whatever, except for a few moments immediately upon his return I did not see him alone until about midnight, when he appeared fatigued, and I would not introduce the subject at a time so inopportune. After a slight pause Mr. Sutherland continued, you claim to be the lawful son of Howard Scott Mainwearing mentioned in this will, and as such the lawful heir under its terms and conditions of the Mainwearing property, I do. Has it not generally been understood, among those supposed to have knowledge of the facts in the case, that Harold Scott Mainwearing at the time of his death had no living child? That has been the general understanding. Will you explain how the fact of your existence has been kept concealed all these years? The silence following the attorney's question was so deep as to be oppressive, until broken by the answer of the witness, clear, bold, and penetrating to the remotest corner of the crowded room. Within an hour from my birth a dead child was substituted in my place, and I was secretly given by my father into the keeping of trusted friends, with instructions that until I had nearly attained my majority I was not even to know of his existence or of the relationship existing between us. Mr. Mainwearing said the attorney, are you willing to state the reasons for such an extraordinary proceeding on his part? For the first time the impassive bearing and the calm even tones of the witness gave way. The smouldering fire in his dark eyes burst forth as with impassioned utterance and voice vibrating with emotion, he replied. It was done because of sorrow, more bitter than death, in his own heart and home, of which he wished me to know nothing until I had reached the years of manhood, and could understand the nature of his wrongs. It was done that I should be forever barred from all association with, or knowledge of, the base, false-hearted woman who bore his name only to dishonor it, who, though she had given me birth, yet believe me dead, that I might live as ignorant of her existence as she of mine. It was done because of his love for his only child, a love for which I would today gladly suffer dishonor and even death if I could put avenge his wrongs. Only Harold Mainwearing's attorneys understood the spirit which prompted his words, but they carried his audience with him in a sudden wave of sympathy, and as he paused, men applauded and women sobbed, while the judge vainly rapped for order. One figure alone remained motionless, spellbound. Amid the general excitement Mrs. Lagrange sat as though turned to stone, her hands clasped so tightly that the jewels cut deeply into the delicate flesh, every vestige of color fled from her face, her lips ashened, her eyes fixed upon the witness, yet seemingly seeing nothing. Gradually as she became conscious of her surroundings and of the curious glances cast in her direction, she partially recovered herself, though her eyes never left the face of the witness. Mr. Mainwearing continued the attorney when order had been restored. When and how did you first learn that you were the son of Harold Scott Mainwearing? My first knowledge regarding my own father I received at the age of fifteen from my foster parents, who told me of the manner in which I had been given to them, and of the death of my father a few years later, but the full particulars I did not learn until my twenty-first birthday, when I received a letter written by my father soon after my birth, and entrusted to the keeping of my foster parents until I should have attained my majority. In that letter he gave me the story of his life, of his marriage, and consequent disinheritance, and of the yet greater sorrow which followed shortly, which led him to voluntarily exile himself from his beloved England, and which finally led to his sacrifice of the love and companionship of his only child. As Harold Mainwearing paused, Mr. Sutherland remarked, I myself have seen the letter to which the witness refers, but I consider it of too personal a nature, and too private a character to submit for examination. I will say, however, that both my honoured colleague Mr. Barton and myself have compared it with other letters and documents known to have been written by Harold Scott Mainwearing, the elder son of Ralph Maxwell Mainwearing, and have found the writing in all cases identically the same. There is yet one more question which may have a bearing later upon this case, which I will ask the witness. Mr. Mainwearing, have you, during this time, received any clue regarding the identity of your mother, or is that still unknown to you? With great deliberation the witness replied, Until within the past three or four days I have known absolutely nothing regarding even the name of the woman whom my father made his wife, or whether she were still in existence. I have recently learned, however, that she is living, and, he added more slowly, I know that she is present in this courtroom. It was afterwards recalled that as the witness resumed his seat a curious sound, something between a gasp and a sob, was heard, but amid the tremendous sensation produced by his last statement it passed unnoticed. With very little delay Mr. Sutherland announced the name of the last witness, Frederick Mainwearing Scott. Again the silence deepened, as the white-haired gentleman with great dignity took his place upon the stand.  At the first sound of his voice Mrs. Lagrange's agitation increased perceptibly, her expression changed to abject terror, yet she seemed unable to move or to withdraw her gaze from his face. To the question, where were you born? The witness replied, I was born in London, but for the past forty-five years have been a resident of Melbourne, Australia. Are you not connected with the Mainwearing family? Distantly the Scott and Mainwearing families have intermarried for many years, but I have waived all claims of relationship for nearly half a century. Were you acquainted with the Harold Scott Mainwearing mentioned in this will? Intimately acquainted with him, as we were associated together in business, during his entire stay in Australia. In what business were you engaged? In the sheep business principally, we were also interested in the mines. For how long a time were you associated together? Six years, or thereabouts? Mr. Scott, you are the foster-father of Harold Scott Mainwearing, who had just preceded you upon the witness stand, are you not? I am, and have been, from the day of his birth. Will you state the circumstances under which you became his foster-parent? Harold Scott Mainwearing, the elder son of Ralph Maxwell Mainwearing, came to Australia within a year after the marriage for which he was disinherited. His reason for leaving England was not, as many have supposed, on account of his father's severity, but because of the discovery of his wife's infidelity, after all that he had sacrificed for her. He brought her to Australia, in the vain hope that removed from other influences, the influence of his own brother in particular, she would yet prove true to him. Within the following year his son was born, but before that event he had fully learned the character of the woman he had married, and he determined that no child of his should be disgraced by any knowledge of its mother or contaminated by association with her. To my wife and myself he confided his plans, and as we had no children of our own, he pledged us to the adoption of his child while yet unborn. An old and trusted nurse in our family was also taken into the secret, but not the physician employed on that occasion, as he was a man of no principle, and already in league with the false wife against her husband. When the child was born Mrs. Mainwearing was very ill, and the babe received comparatively little notice from the attendant physician. A dead child, born but a few hours earlier, was therefore easily substituted for the living child of Harold Mainwearing, while the latter was secretly conveyed to my own home. A few weeks later the child was privately christened in a small church on the outskirts of Melbourne, and the event duly recorded upon the church records. He was given his father's name in full, Harold Scott Mainwearing, but until his twenty-first birthday was known among our acquaintances as Harry Scott, the same name by which he has been known in your city, while acting as the private secretary to Hugh Mainwearing. Are you familiar with the letter written by Harold Mainwearing to his son? Perfectly so. He gave it into my keeping on the day of the christening to be given to his son when he should have reached his majority, if he himself had not, before that time, claimed him as his child. You can then vouch for its genuineness? I can. How long a time elapsed between the birth of this child and the death of Harold Mainwearing, the father? About five years. He left his wife soon after the birth of this child and spent the greater part of his time at the mines. He finally decided to go to the gold fields of Africa, and a few months after his departure we received tidings of the wreck of the vessel in which he sailed, with the particulars of his death at sea. Mr. Scott, did you ever hear of the existence of this will? Not until the boy, Harold, learned of it, soon after he entered Oxford. Do you know how he first heard of it? He heard of it from Wilson, one of the old servants on the Mainwearing estate, who recognized in him a resemblance to Ralph Maxwell Mainwearing, and learning of his identity told him the history of the will. You have been kept informed of his search for the will and of its final discovery? From the first, though the boy has a good bit of money in his own name, I will back him in getting his rights to the very last pound in my possession, and that, he added, while his dark eyes flashed ominously, will outlast the bankroll of any that can go against him. Have you any further direct evidence which you can produce in support of the identity of the claimant? I have, the witness replied, and having taken from his pocket a large memorandum book and extracted there from a paper, he continued with great deliberation. I have here a certified copy of the record of the christening at the church of St. Bartholomew on June twenty-fourth, eighteen knot of Harold Scott Mainwearing, the first born son of Harold Scott and Eleanor Houghton Mainwearing. A piercing shriek suddenly rang out through the hushed courtroom and the crowd, turning involuntarily at the familiar name of Eleanor Houghton Mainwearing towards the seat occupied by Mrs. Lagrange, saw that wretched woman sink with a low despairing moan unconscious to the floor. As several sprang to the assistance of the unfortunate woman, Mr. Scott, turning swiftly towards the judge, exclaimed, There, your honour, is a most unwilling witness, but one who has very effectively confirmed my testimony. The greatest confusion followed, several women having fainted from nervous excitement, and as it was then nearly noon the court adjourned until the afternoon session. End of chapter twenty. Chapter twenty-one of that Mainwearing affair. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. That Mainwearing affair by A. Maynard Barber, chapter twenty-one, The Last Throw. There being no further testimony in the case, but little time was occupied by Mr. Sutherland at the afternoon session. Briefly and forcibly he summarised the evidence already adduced, emphasising the strongest points and closing with numerous citations bearing upon the case, taken from recent decisions of the highest legal authorities. Several days would be required for consideration of the case pending the decision of the court, and as the crowd surged out into the corridors and diffused itself through the various exits, there was much speculation as to what that decision would be, and what would be the action taken by the opponents. Among the clubmen who had made the acquaintance of Ralph Mainwearing, heavy bets were offered that he would contest the case before the will was even admitted to probate. He's a fool if he does, said one. The young fellow has the best show. He'll not give up, however, was the reply. He's got too much of the bulldog about him. Nothing will make him break his hold till he's spent his last shilling. Well, he'll spend it for nothing, that's all, said another. I'll wager you a dinner for the whole club, that the young fellow will beat him. Anybody that knows Sutherland knows. He hasn't played his trump card yet, and you may rest assured that English lawyer isn't over here as a figurehead. Ralph Mainwearing, passing hastily from the courtroom accompanied by Mr. Whitney, overheard the last remark. His only reply, however, was a look of scorn flashed at the speaker, but the sardonic smile which lingered about his closely compressed lips, betokened on his part no anticipations of defeat, but rather the reverse. Even Mr. Whitney wondered at his silence, but young Mainwearing, leisurely following in the rear, knew it to be only the calm which presages the coming storm. His father, followed by the attorney, stepped quickly into the Mainwearing carriage, and beckoned impatiently for him to follow, but the younger man coolly declined the invitation. No, thank you, Governor. I was going for a bit of a stroll. I'll join you and Mr. Whitney at dinner. As the carriage rolled away he stood for a few moments lost in thought. His father's words to him that morning had stung his pride, and aroused in him a spirit of independence altogether new, which had made him more the keen in observing his father's expressions and movements, and in drawing his own deductions therefrom. He had formed some theories of his own, and as he now stood in the soft, autumnal sunshine he resolved to put them to the test. Turning suddenly in an opposite direction from that which he had at first taken, he found himself confronted by Harold Mainwearing and his party, as they descended the courthouse steps to the carriages in waiting. Instantly the young men clasped hands, and the frank blue eyes gazing into the piercing dark ones with a friendliness of whose sincerity there could be no doubt. He gat, old fellow, he exclaimed in low tones. I'm glad to see you, though you have taken us rather by surprise. I'll not take back a word of the promise I made you, nor of what I've said about you, either. I did not think you would, Hugh, Harold replied, grasping the proffered hand heartily. I had a great deal of faith in you and in your word. I only regretted that I could not explain matters at the time. It seemed like taking advantage of you and your friendship, though I warned you that the future might make some unexpected revelations. Well, I don't regret anything. I always said you had good blood in you, don't you know? Hugh continued with a boyish laugh, then added a little huskily. I'll say this much, and I mean it. I would rather give up what I supposed was mine to you than to anybody else that I know of. Thank you, Hugh. I appreciate that. I assure you. Come around to the Waldorf. I would like to have a talk with you. Indeed, I will. Of course, I suppose it would be of no use to ask you up to the house. I couldn't expect you to come. But I'll see you as soon as I can. And with another hand-clasp the young men parted. On arriving at the Waldorf a note was handed to Harold Bainwearing, with the information that the bearer had been waiting nearly an hour, as there was an answer expected. He well knew the writing. It was the same as that of the little missive given him on the first day of the inquest, and with darkening face he opened it, and read the following lines. I must see you at once, and I beg of you to come to my apartments this afternoon at five o'clock, without fail. In the name of mercy, do not deny me this one favour.  After a brief consultation with his attorneys, an answer was sent to the effect that he would call in compliance with the request, and a little later he started upon his strange errand. With what wildly conflicting emotions Mrs. LaGrange in her apartments awaited his coming may perhaps be more easily imagined than portrayed. She had not recovered from the morning shock, but was nerving herself for the coming ordeal, preparing to make her final desperate throw in the game of life. Success now in this last venture would mean everything to her, while failure would leave her nothing, only blank despair. Pride, the dominant passion of her life, struggled with a newly awakened love, doubt and dread and fear battled with hope, but even in the unequal contest, hope would not be vanquished. Only before the hour appointed Richard Hobson's card was handed her with the information that he must see her without delay. She understood the nature of his errand. She knew his coming was inevitable. Her only desire was to postpone the meeting with him until after the interview with Harold Bainwearing, but on no account would she have him know of her appointment with the latter. She tore the bit of pace board in two. Tell him to call to-morrow, she said to the messenger, but he soon returned, with another card on which was written, important, must see you to-day. It was nearly five. Quickly with fingers trembling from her anxiety, lest he delay too long, she wrote, Call at eight o'clock this evening. I can see no one earlier. As she gave the card to the messenger, she glanced again at the little French clock on the mantel. Three hours, she murmured, three hours in which to decide my fate. If I succeed, I can bid defiance to that craven when he shall come to-night. But not. She shuddered and walked over to the window, where she watched eagerly till she saw the cringing figure going hastily down the street. He had but just disappeared around the corner of the block when a closed carriage was driven rapidly to the hotel, and a moment later Harold Scott Bainwearing was announced. Her heart throbbed wildly as she turned to meet him, then suddenly stopped, seeming a dead weight in her breast, as her eyes met his. For a moment neither spoke. As her lips moved, but no sound came from them. Before that face, hard and impassive as granite, and as cold, the impulse which she had felt to throw herself at his feet, and plead for mercy and for love, died within her. Her tongue seemed paralyzed, powerless to utter a word, and the word she would have spoken fled from her brain. With swift observation he noted the terrible change which the last weeks, and especially the last few hours, had wrought in the wretched woman before him, and the suffering, evidence by her deathly pallor, her trembling agitation, and the look of dumb almost hopeless pleading in her eyes, appealed to him far more than any words could have done. He was the first to speak, and though there was no softening of the stern features, yet his tones were gentle, almost pitying, as he said. I have come as you requested. Why did you send for me? What have you to say? At the sound of his voice she seemed somewhat reassured, and advancing a few steps towards him she repeated his words. Why did I send for you? Why should I not send for you?  There is no need to call up the past, he said more coldly. The separation to which you refer was, under existing circumstances, the best for all concerned. It undoubtedly caused suffering, but you were not the sufferer. There could be no great depths of maternal love where there was neither love nor loyalty as a wife. Her dark eyes grew tender and luminous as she fixed them upon his face, while she beckoned him to a seat, and seated herself near and facing him. You forget, she replied, in the low, rich tones he had so often heard at Faroaks, you forget that a mother's love is instinctive, born within her with the birth of her child, while a wife's love must be one. I must recall the past to you, and you must listen. T'was for this I sent for you, that you, knowing the past, might know that, however deeply I may have sinned, I have been far more deeply sinned against. Not as regards my father, he interposed quickly, as she paused to note the effect of her words. He sacrificed fortune, home, friends, everything for you, and you rewarded his love and devotion only with the basest infidelity. That your father loved me, I admit, she continued in the same low musical tones, scarcely heeding his words. But as I said a moment ago, a wife's love must be one, and he failed to win my love. Was his treacherous brother so much more successful, then in that direction than he, Harold questioned sternly, within six months after your marriage to my father, you admitted that you married him only that you might have humane wearing for your lover.   I said that once under great provocation, but if I sought to make humane wearing my lover, it was not that I loved him, but through revenge for his having trifled with me, only to deceive and desert me. Before I married your father, both he and his brother were among my most ardent admirers. The younger brother seemed to me far more congenial, and had he possessed one half the chivalry and devotion which the elder brother afterwards manifested, he would have completely won my love. The rivalry between the two brothers led to bitter estrangement, which soon became known to their father, who lost no time in ascertaining its cause. His anger on learning the facts in the case was extreme, he wrote me an insulting letter, and threatened to disown either or both of his sons unless they discontinued their attentions to a disreputable adventurous as he chose to style me. Humane wearing at once deserted me, without even a word of explanation or a farewell, and as if that were not enough, on more than one occasion he openly insulted me in the presence of his father on the streets of London. I realized then for the first time that I cared for him, coward that he was, though I did not love him as he thought. Had I loved him I would have killed him then and there. Mad with chagrin and rage I married your father, partly for the position he could give me, for I did not believe that he, the elder son in his father's favorite, would be disowned, and partly to show his brother and their father that I still held, as I supposed, the winning hand. On my wedding day I vowed that I would yet bring humane wearing to my feet as my lover, and when shortly afterwards your father was disinherited in his favor, my desire for revenge was only intensified. I redoubled my efforts to win him, and I found it no difficult task. He was even more willing to play the lover to his brother's wife, than to the penniless girl whom he had known, with no possessions but her beauty and wit. At first our meetings were clandestine, but soon we grew reckless, and in one or two instances I openly boasted of my conquest, hoping thereby to arouse his father's displeasure against him also. But in that I reckoned wrong. He disinherited and disowned his son for having honorably married a woman whom he considered below him in station. But for an open affaire d'amour with that son's wife he had not even a word of censure. Your father discovered the situation and decided upon a life in Australia. If he had then shown me some consideration, the future might have been vastly different. But he grew morose and taciturn, and I, accustomed to gay society and the admiration of crowds, was left to mope alone in a strange country with no companionship whatever. What wonder that I hungered for the old life, or that a casual admiring glance, or a few words even of flattery, or like cold water to one perishing with thirst. One new hope came into my lonely life, and I spent months in dreamy, happy anticipations of the future-love and companionship of my child. But even that boon was denied me. It was hard enough, believing as I did, that my child had died. But to find that I was robbed of that which would have not only been my joy and happiness, but my salvation from the life which followed, she paused, apparently unable to proceed, and buried her eyes in a dainty handkerchief, while Harold Mainwearing watched her, the hard lines deepening about his mouth. After that, she resumed in trembling tones, all hope was gone. Your father deserted me soon afterwards, leaving me nearly penniless, and a few years later I returned to England. To find Hugh Mainwearing, he queried, not at the first, she answered, but her eyes fell before the cynicism of his glance. I had no thought of him then, but I learned through Richard Hobson, whom I met in London at that time, of the will which had been made in my husband's favour, but which he told me had been destroyed by Hugh Mainwearing. He said nothing of the clause forbidding that any of the property should pass to me, and I immediately sailed for America in search of Hugh Mainwearing, believing that, with my knowledge of the will, I, as his brother's widow, could get some hold upon him, by which I could compel him either to share the property with me or to marry me. Then you were not married to Hugh Mainwearing in England as you testified at the inquest? No, she replied passionately, I was never married to him. I have made many men my dupes and slaves, but he was the one man who made a dupe of me, and I hating him all the time. And Walter, he exclaimed, you stated that he was the son of Hugh Mainwearing. He is, Hugh Mainwearing's son and mine, she answered with bitter emphasis. That was another of my schemes which failed. I found I had little hold upon Hugh Mainwearing, while he had the same power over me as in the days before I had learned to despise him. When Walter was born I hoped he would then fulfill his promises of marriage, but instead he would have turned me adrift had I not threatened that I would then disclose everything which I knew concerning the will. He sneered at me, but offered me a place as servant in his home, and support and education for his child on condition that the relationship should never be known, and that I would remain silent regarding the will. I could do nothing then but accept his conditions, but they were galling, too galling at last to be longer endured. How is it that you and Walter bear the name of La Grange? He asked. She hesitated a moment, and then replied, I married a man by that name soon after leaving Australia. Before or after the tidings of my father's death? He questioned sternly.  I met Captain La Grange in Sydney, and we sailed together for Paris and were married there, but we soon grew tired of each other. I left him in about two years and went to Vienna, and from there returned to England. In some way hewn man-wearing learned of the marriage, and when I came to Faroaks he insisted on my taking that name for myself and my child. She spoke wearily and with a naire of dejection, for it was plainly evident that Harold man-wearing was not to be deceived by misstatements, however plausible, nor were his sympathies to be aroused by simulated grief. A few moments of silence followed, while she watched him intently, her face again falling into the pinched and haggard outlines which he had observed on entering the room. When he at last spoke his voice was calm, without a trace of anger or bitterness. Mrs. La Grange, I have been informed that in the days before you ruined my father's life you were an actress in a second class London playhouse, and I see you have not yet lost some of the little tricks of the stage. But we are not now before the footlights, and it would be much better to lay aside everything pertaining to them. Nothing that you have said has awakened my pity nor touched my sympathies for you. In fact, what you have told me has only steeled my heart against you, because of its utter falsity. It is unnecessary to go over the ground again. But if you could not reciprocate the love and devotion bestowed upon you by my father, you should never have accepted it. But accepting it as you did you were bound by every consideration to be true and loyal to that love and to him.  I have not come here to reproach you, however. I will only say that I do not believe the capacity, the capability even, of love exists or has ever existed within you. But, he continued in gentler tones, the capacity for suffering does exist, and I can see without any simulation on your part that you have suffered. Before the look of pity which now for the first time softened the stern features, she broke down, in genuine tears coursed on her palate cheeks as she cried, suffered what have I not suffered? I am homeless, penniless, degraded, and outcast. There is no hope, no help for me, unless you will help me. I know what you must think of me. Though even you, my son, must despise me. But as a drowning man catches at a straw I sent for you, hoping that you would in mercy pity me and help me. Do you wish me to help you pecuniarily? I will willingly do that. Pecuniarily, she exclaimed, almost in scorn. Can you not understand what I need most? It is pity, sympathy, love. I want the love and support of my firstborn son, and I am willing to beg for it. When rising from her chair, she threw herself upon her knees beside him. Only be my son. Forget the past, and let me be to you as I am, your mother. No, let me be," she exclaimed, as he would have raised her from her kneeling posture. I have no son but you. For Walter, like his father, has deserted me, with taunts and sneers. I can help you, too. She added eagerly, but in low tones.  Do you know what Ralph Mainwearing will attempt next? He will try to implicate you in the murder of you Mainwearing. That will be no more than you yourself attempted at the inquest, he answered. Ah! But his motive is different, and in my case it was but the resort of a weak woman to divert suspicion from herself, but he will seek to fasten this crime upon you to defeat you, to crush and ruin you, because he fears you as his opponent, and it is within my power to clear you from any charges he may bring against you. Her voice sank nearly to a whisper. Her eyes were dilated, and she was trembling with excitement. He watched her very intently for a moment, then spoke in a tone of calm command. Tell me how you could help me. What do you know of that affair? Listen and I will tell you. And leaning towards him she whispered a few words in his ears. Only a few words, but Harold Mainwearing started as from a shock, while his face grew as pale as her own, and it was with difficulty he could control his voice, as he demanded in quick, excited tones. Do you know what you are saying? Are you speaking the truth? Yes, before heaven it is the truth, and the horror of it has haunted me day and night, the thought of it has driven me nearly mad, but I dared not breathe it to any living human being. You have told no one else what you have just told me. No, I dared not. He asked a few more questions which she answered, and from her manner he was convinced that she spoke the truth. Then he sat for a moment silent, his head bowed, his eyes covered, lost in thought, while strangely commingled emotions surged within his breast. At last she broke the silence. It will help you what I have told you, will it not? It is of inestimable value to me, he answered. But instead of exultation, there was a strange sadness in his voice. You will let me help you, and you will be a son to me, will you not? He looked at her with an expression of mingled pity and bitterness, and then without replying, lifted her gently but firmly and receded her, while he himself remained standing at a little distance. She watched him anxiously. Harold! At last she ventured. Think what I have suffered, and do not refuse my one prayer. I can see that you have suffered, he answered gently, and as I have told you, I will help you pecuniarily and will befriend you, only do not ask me that which I cannot give. I ask nothing more, she exclaimed passionately, rising to her feet, than that you be a son to me, and I will accept nothing less. I am sorry to hear you say that, he replied, for you are only unnecessarily depriving yourself of many benefits that might be yours. I would provide a home for you where you would be unknown, and means that you could spend the remainder of your life in comfort. What would I care? For any home or wealth that you might provide for me, she demanded angrily, if you yourself would not acknowledge me as your mother, I will accept nothing from you under such conditions. Then we may as well end this conference, he replied calmly, for I hold my father in too deep love and reverence ever to permit of my applying to you the sacred name of mother. Her eyes flashed at the mention of his father, and she was about to speak, but he lifted his hand, warningly, hush, he commanded.  Before I go, I will give you an opportunity to reconsider your declaration of a moment ago. I will not reconsider it. You are like every main wearing that I have ever known, in that you think money in shelter, such as you might fling at some superannuated servant, will take the place of true position and honor that are my due. Do you then, finally in once and for all, refuse any and all offers of assistance from me? He asked. I do, she replied proudly, I will not accept charity from a main wearing, not even from you. Very well, if that is your decision, I bid you adieu, and before she could reply he was gone. He passed swiftly down the corridor, his head bowed slightly, neither to the right hand nor to the left, but his step had an elasticity it had not possessed in weeks, and any one passing near him would have heard the single exclamation, thank God. Upon reaching his carriage he spoke quickly to the driver, to the Waldorf at once, and was borne away by the impatient steeds even more swiftly than he had come. Meanwhile within the room which he had just left, the wretched woman, whose falseness and pride had wrought her own undoing, stood listening to the retreating footsteps.  All is over, she moaned, and I have failed. I could not force him to my terms, and I would never yield to his. I will take charity from no one, least of all from him. I will be first or nothing, and she shivered faintly. After a time she arose, and ringing for her maid, ordered a light repasse brought to her room as she would not go down to dinner. And, she concluded, you could have the evening to yourself. I expect callers and will not need you. An hour later Richard Hopson crept along the corridor and tapped for admittance. There was no answer, and cautiously pushing open the door he entered unbidden, but started back in horror at the sight which met his eyes. The electric lights had not been turned on, but a few tall wax tapers in a pair of candelabra upon the mantel were burning. And in the dim, weird light, Mrs. Lagrange still elegantly attired for her interview with Harold Mainwearing. Lay upon the low couch near the grate, her features scarcely paler than a few hours before, but now rigid in death. Upon the table beside her the supper ordered by the maid stood untasted, while on the same table a small vial bearing the label of one of the deadliest of poisons, but empty, told the story. Underneath the vial was a slip of paper on which was written. I have staked my highest card and lost. The game is done. Terror-stricken Hopson glanced about him. Then pausing only long enough to clutch some of the gleaming jewels from the inanimate form, he stealthily withdrew, and skulking unobserved along the corridors, passed out into the darkness and was gone. CHAPTER XXII When Ralph Mainwearing and Mr. Whitney arrived at the club, they found young Mainwearing already awaiting them at their private table, and it was far from a social group that sat down to dinner that evening. The elder Mainwearing still preserved an ominous silence, and in his dark, glowing face few would have recognized the urbane guest whom Hugh Mainwearing had introduced to his small coterie of friends less than three months before. The younger man, though holding a desultory conversation with the attorney, yet looked decidedly bored, while from time to time he regarded his father with a cynical expression entirely new to his hitherto ingenuous face. Mr. Whitney, always keenly alert to his surroundings, became quickly conscious of a sudden lack of harmony between father and son, and feeling himself in rather a delicate position, carefully refrained in his remarks from touching upon any but the most neutral ground. A couple of hours later, as the three with a box of cigars were gathered around an open fire in Ralph Mainwearing's apartments, it was noticeable that young Mainwearing was unusually silent. In a few moments, however, his father's long pent-up wrath burst forth. Addressing the attorney in no very pleasant tone, he demanded, "'Well, sir, what do you now propose to do about this matter?' "'It is to be a fight, then, is it?' Mr. Whitney said with a smile, knocking the ashes from his cigar. "'Yes, by my soul, and a fight to the finish. Understand I will have no time lost. This farce has got to be quashed at once, and the sooner the better. So you may enter protest, and file an application for hearing or whatever your motive procedure is in this country, at the earliest possible moment. Meanwhile, I'll secure the best legal talent that money can get to help you. I've got a longer purse than that old Australian sheepherder thinks. And when the time for contest comes, I'll meet him on his own ground. "'If you are going to employ additional counsel,' interposed Mr. Whitney, "'allow me to suggest the name of P.B. Hunwell of this city. He is one of the ablest attorneys in the United States, particularly in matters of this kind. His fees are somewhat exorbitant, but money is no object with you in this case. "'None, whatever,' the other interrupted impatiently. "'We will retain this Hunwell upon your recommendation. But in the morning I shall cable for upwell and blackwell of London. They rank right in the same line with Barton and Barton. They have conducted considerable business for me, and I am satisfied,' he added with particular emphasis, they could not be tampered with or bought at any price. I shall also cable for Graham. The expert on chirography, and on all kinds of forgeries, and we will have his decision upon that will. I am going, first of all, understand, to have that document proven a forgery. That done, the whole fabrication of this cunning imposter falls to the ground, and then, when I have him completely floored in that direction, he will find that I have only just begun with him. "'How is that?' questioned the attorney. You surely do not intend to dispute his identity after the unmistakable proof submitted.  Both were renegades and outcasts from their homes. No, sir, and there was a ring of exultation in his tone, while his steel-gray eyes glittered. I have a surprise in store for that young man. When he gets through with this contest, he will find himself under arrest as the murderer of Hugh Mainwearing. Young Mainwearing rose suddenly, and began pacing the room, while Mr. Whitney exclaimed, "'Mr. Mainwearing, you astonish me. I certainly fail to see how you can connect the young man with that terrible affair.'" What else could be expected of a man who acknowledges that for years he has been dogging the steps of Hugh Mainwearing and acting the part of a spy, not only in his private offices, but even in his own home, stooping to any means, no matter how contemptible, to further his nefarious designs. And such a man, when his schemes were finally matured, have any scruples about taking the life of the one who stood in the way of their fulfillment. But sir, protested the attorney, such a deed would be wholly unnecessary, admitting all that you have said regarding the means employed by him. Would it not be much more reasonable to suppose that he would attempt to bring this man to terms, either through a personal interview, or by bringing suit against him, rather than by resorting to brutal crime, and supposing he did have a personal interview? For the purpose of setting forth his claims, do you think that Hugh Mainwearing would be bamboozled by any of his cheap trickery? No, sir. Not for one moment. He would simply pronounce the whole thing a sham. Well, sir. If you recall some of the testimony at the inquest, you will see that is precisely what occurred.  An impostor, mark you, very applicable to the case. We are now supposing. And in the altercation which followed, the other party called him a thief, and made some allusion, I do not recall the exact words, to his being transported to the wilds of Australia. Now, sir, there is no doubt in the mind of any sane man that those words were spoken by the murderer of Hugh Mainwearing, and I think now we have a pretty good clue to his identity. But the young man stated emphatically this morning that he made no mention of the will to Hugh Mainwearing, to the devil with his statements. There is evidence enough against him that he will be ruined when I get through with him.  Understand. I want you to institute proceedings against him at once. Governor, said Young Mainwearing quietly, before Mr. Whitney could respond to this tirade. In whose name will these proceedings be instituted, yours or mine? Well, replied his father with a sneer, I don't know that it makes any particular difference to you, in whose name it is done, so long as it is for your benefit. Begging your pardon, sir, I believe it does make considerable difference, and I will say right here that I will have no proceedings entered, either in my name or for my benefit, for two reasons. First, Harold Scott Mainwearing is no imposter. We had abundant proof today that under the terms of that will, he is the sole claimant to the property. And second, you know, sir, as well as I, that years ago your own servant John Wilson told you that such a will had existed, and there is every ground for believing that this document is genuine. I just begin to understand your little game, Governor, and by Jove I will not be a party to it. Up to this point astonishment at his son's audacity seemed to have bereft Ralph Mainwearing of the power of speech, but now he demanded in thunderous tones while his face grew purple with rage. What do you mean, sir? By daring to address such language to me, you impudent upstart, let me tell you, that you had best attend to your own business. This is the second time you have told me that today, said the young man calmly, though the hot blood was fast rising, allow me to inform you, Governor, with all due respect, that henceforth I will attend to my own business, and will not trouble you to attend to it for me. If you had any just or tenable grounds for the proceedings you are about to institute, I would have nothing to say, but begging your pardon, you have none whatever. It is simply a piece of dirty work with which I will have nothing to do. You ungrateful dog, this is your return for my care and forethought for you, is it?  And with a fearful oath he swung himself around in his chair with such violence as to overturn the small onyx table upon which the cigars were standing, shattering it to fragments. The young man paused directly in front of his father. I retract, nothing, he said, quietly but firmly. You are at liberty to follow the example of old Ralph Maxwell main-wearing, if you wish, but you may regret it later, as he did. Do you think Edith Thornton will marry a penniless beggar, a pauper, or do you propose to live upon her fortune? No, I will not touch a penny of her fortune. He replied, his cheek flushing, and I am not quite a pauper, for I have the money left me by Uncle Tom years ago. And if Edith is the girl to be turned away from me under the circumstances, why, the sooner I find it out, the better. A paltry twenty thousand pounds, a fine fortune! sneered his father, ignoring his last remark. Many a fortune has been made from a much smaller amount, but it is useless to waste words further. You understand my position, and that is enough. After Whitney, he continued addressing the attorney, according to the terms of few main-wearing's will, I, and not my father, am heir to the property, and therefore the one to contest the claim of howled main-wearing, if it is to be contested at all. I wish to state to you here and now, distinctly, that I will not contest the case, nor will I authorize anyone to do so for me, and now, gentlemen, I bid you both good evening. And he quietly left the room. The sounds, exclaimed the elder man, as the door closed upon his son. I didn't suppose the boy had so much spirit. I've often wished he and Isabelle could change places, because she was so much more like myself, and what I would like a son to be. He has the main-wearing blood all right, replied the attorney, with more inward admiration for the young man, than he dared to express. Not if he will throw away a fortune in this manner. It is probably some boyish whim, however, and the young fool will look at it in a different light to-morrow. I think not, Mr. Main-wearing, said the attorney quietly. He is enough like Hugh Main-wearing and like yourself, that when he decides upon a certain line of action, he will not be easily turned aside. You may rest assured that he will have nothing whatever to do with this contest, and that if you wish to carry on the fight you will have to do so under your own colors. I'll do it then, he replied fiercely. I'll enter proceedings in my own name, as the nearest air after Hugh Main-wearing. In that case, your brother must be notified, as he will be entitled to share the estate with you. That may cause us some little delay, but— Curse it all! The other interrupted angrily. I had not thought of that. He will have to come in for a share. Confound that boy's foolishness. I'll get hold of him to-morrow morning, and see if I cannot talk some reason into him. And Ralph Main-wearing relapsed into sullen silence. It was a new experience for him, to meet with opposition in his own family, least of all from his son, and he felt the first step must be to quell it, though decidedly at loss just how to proceed. A little later, Mr. Whitney, finding his client disinclined to further conversation, after making an appointment for the next morning, excused himself, and took his departure for his own apartments at the club. As he passed down the stairway into the spacious hall, what was his surprise to see Mr. Merrick comfortably ensconced in a large leather chair reading the evening papers? The two men shook hands warmly, and together passed out into the cool starlit night. When did you arrive, Merrick, and from what point of the compass? inquired the attorney. Got in on the nine-thirty train, the detective replied, seeming not to have heard the second question. Learned you were at Main-wearing, so I stopped in, but told the butler not to disturb you, as I was in no hurry. I noticed you were looking over the evening papers. Did you read the account of this morning's proceedings in court? I did. What do you think of them? I am not, in the least surprised. Not surprised, echoed the attorney. Do you mean to say that the reappearance of the missing secretary as the heir to the Main-wearing estate is no surprise to you? None-whatever, Merrick replied, with the most exasperating coolness. Adding, as he noted the other's incredulous smile, you may recall a hint given you at Fair Oaks one evening, of the possible existence of claimants, perhaps not far distant, whose rights superseded those of you Main-wearing himself. Dr. Whitney started involuntarily, as the detective's words of a few weeks before were thus recalled. Then looking his companion squarely in the face, he exclaimed, half playfully, half indignantly, I don't suppose you will go so far as to claim any familiarity with that old will which has just been resurrected? Well, said Merrick, deliberately stopping to relight his cigar, I was aware that there was such a will in existence, or at least that it had existed up to the time of Hugh Main-wearing's death, and I supposed all along that it was in the possession of Harold Scott Main-wearing, otherwise known as Harry Scott, secretary. By George! When and how did you get hold of all this? questioned the attorney in a tone of bewilderment. I was pretty well conversant with the facts in the case a few days before the young man took passage for England and the companion. The companion? Heaven's an earth man! Do you mean to say that he went over on the same boat with the ladies from Faroaks? Certainly, and I don't think, Merrick continued, watching the attorney shrewdly, that miss the ladies from Faroaks objected to him as a fellow traveler, either. Mr. Whitney changed the subject. Then you know the will to be genuine, do you? Hmm, am I on the witness stand? No, but I think I ought to subpoena you, to keep the other side from getting your testimony. You might make a troublesome witness against us. My testimony might be worth much or little. I am not giving it to either side at present. Well, I would not have it go out, of course, but for my part I am inclined to believe, not only that the will is genuine, but also that Ralph Mainwearing knows that it is. He will fight it all the same. Yes, but on rather different grounds from what he first anticipated, and Mr. Whitney gave Merrick an account of young Mainwearing's defection. In my private opinion, concluded the attorney, Ralph Mainwearing is a fool, for he has got a pretty hard combination to go against. They've evidently got a strong case, splendid legal talent, and plenty of money to back it all. However, I'm making a good thing out of it. Yes, said Merrick enigmatically, Barton and Barton are undoubtedly men of great ability in their professions, but that clerk of theirs who has come over with the party, with peculiar emphasis, is the smartest man in the whole crowd. The clerk? Why, I thought he seemed rather an insignificant sort of fellow. What do you know about him? For reply the detective only gave a short, unpleasant laugh, and touching his cap, turned abruptly down another street. Hold on, cried the attorney. You haven't told me anything about yourself yet. What have you been doing, and how long are you going to be in town? A day or two, perhaps, possibly a week, I cannot say. How are you getting on? But the detective was lost in thought and apparently did not hear the question. I suppose you read of the arrest of Brown, the coachman. He remarked abstractedly, after a moment's silence. The coachman? No. You don't say that he was really concerned in that affair? The attorney exclaimed excitedly. What affair? The main wearing murder? I don't know that I have said that he was concerned in that, Merrick answered, suddenly coming to himself and evidently enjoying the attorney's expression of blank perplexity. He was mixed up in a shooting affair, however, which occurred about that time, and by holding him in custody we hoped to get on to the principles. Oh! he added carelessly, anticipating another inquiry from Mr. Whitney. I'm getting there all right, if that is what you want to know, but I won't have somebody else dogging my tracks and then claiming the game by and by. Man alive! What in the dickens are you driving at?  Perhaps so, Merrick replied indifferently, then added quickly, there is a sensation of some sort in there, see the crowd of reporters. They were standing on a street corner near a large hotel, and glancing through the windows in the direction indicated by the detective, Mr. Whitney saw, as he had said, a crowd of reporters in the office and lobbies, some writing, some talking excitedly, and others coming and going. Just then one who was leaving the building past them and Merrick stopped him. What is going on? What's the excitement? Suicide! The young man replied hastily, that woman who was mixed up in the main wearing case has suicided by poison. The attorney and the detective exchanged startled glances, then both entered the hotel. An hour later the attorney and the detective reappeared, and threading their way through the crowd still lingering about the hotel, walked rapidly down the street, arm in arm, conversing in low tones. A case of suicide undoubtedly, said the attorney, and scarcely to be wondered at, taking all the circumstances into consideration, do you know I am now more than ever inclined to the belief that she was in some way connected with humane wearing's death, and that after such a revelation of her character, as was made in court this morning, she feared further disclosures. Mr. Whitney glanced at his companion, but the latter seemed engrossed with his own thoughts and made no reply. I never was so completely floored in my life, the attorney continued, as when it came out that Harold Mainwearing was her son, and yet I failed to see the necessity for introducing that feature into the testimony. I should have thought that it would have been passed over in silence. As near as I can judge from reading of the case, Merrick replied, it seems to have been done with a purpose. His attorneys were leading up to that very point in such a manner that, when the climax was reached, she would involuntarily betray herself as she did, thus confirming in the strongest manner the testimony already given. I believe you may be right, said the attorney musingly, though it had not occurred to me. After a short pause, Merrick continued, when I was first called to Faroaks I suspected some relationship between that woman and the secretary, as he was then called. There was a marked resemblance between them. Both had the same peculiar olive skin, while their features and carriage were almost identical. Yes, I recall you're mentioning the likeness to me, and at the same time I was puzzled by the resemblance between him and Hugh Mainwearing. Well, I always said he was a mystery, and no wonder. They had reached the clubhouse by this time, and as Merrick declined Mr. Whitney's invitation to enter, both men remained outside for a few moments. Once again the attorney endeavored to sound the detective, regarding his work and the progress he was making, but the latter suddenly became strangely uncommunicative. My client is going to charge Harold Mainwearing with the murder, said the attorney at last. Merrick laughed scornfully, and for the second time that evening wheeled abruptly and turned down a side street, leaving Mr. Whitney standing upon the clubhouse steps, watching the rapidly retreating figure with mingled vexation and amusement. Something has upset Merrick. He soliloquized as he finally turned towards the entrance. Who can he imagine is dogging his tracks as he terms it? These detectives seem about as jealous of their reputation as we lawyers are supposed to be. Ralph Mainwearing is going to engage the best legal talent that money can get. Hmm. When he comes to settle, he may find that my legal talent will come just as high as the best of them. Should Mr. Whitney have been present at a conference held that evening in one of the private parlours of the Waldorf, he might have had a better understanding of the cause of Merrick's perturbation. Immediately upon returning to the hotel, Harold Mainwearing had communicated to the English attorney, and to Mr. Scott, the particulars of his interview with Mrs. Lagrange. Mr. Scott had once expressed his satisfaction at the outcome, in that she had rejected all offers of assistance except upon her own terms. Not as best just as it is, he said emphatically. You do not want to be hampered with any obligation she might impose upon you, and as for ever recognizing or acknowledging any relationship, it is not to be thought of for one moment. Your course was right, perfectly right. But what was the statement of such importance which she was to make? That is just what I am coming to, the young man replied, and drawing his chair closer to those of his companions, he repeated in low tones the secret entrusted to him by Mrs. Lagrange. The faces of the two men were as steady as he ended his recital. Are you confident that she spoke the truth? questioned Mr. Barton eagerly. I am positive that she did. She seemed like one terror-stricken, and said that the horror of it had haunted her day and night. There could be no reason in this instance for doubting her, commented Mr. Scott thoughtfully. She would have no motive for making such a statement, if it were not true. My dear main-wearing, exclaimed the attorney, it is what I have suspected ever since you gave me the details of the affair. You remember what I told you before we left London? Certainly, but it seemed to me then too improbable. The improbable is, sometimes, what we must look for in cases like this, he replied. McCabe should be put on to this immediately, and we must call Sutherland. I will summon him myself at once, and he left the room. The foster father and son left for a few moments to themselves, had little to say, but sat looking into each other's faces, with eyes full of meaning, each understanding what was in the other's heart. At last, as they heard returning footsteps, the elder man spoke. It was a good thing you went there, my boy. Come what may, you will never regret it. Never, the other replied with emphasis. It seemed but a few moments ere hurried steps were heard along the corridor, followed by a light familiar knock, and Mr. Sutherland entered. I recognized your voice at the phone, Mr. Barton, said the attorney, after greetings had been exchanged, and something in its tone, aside from the general import of your message, led me to believe that the call was of special importance, therefore I lost no time in coming here. You were correct, replied the English barrister. We have made a most important discovery, bearing not only upon the case in hand, but also upon the main wearing murder case. Ah! responded the attorney with evident interest, then drawing his chair near the group seated around the open fire, he asked, with a swift glance about the room, but where is your clerk, Mr. Barton, should he not be present? My clerk, replied Mr. Barton with peculiar emphasis, and plainly appreciating the humor of the inquiry. My clerk is, I believe, at present engaged in most assiduously cultivating the acquaintance of Ralph Mainwearing's coachman. Then as Mr. Sutherland elevated his eyebrows in mute inquiry, he continued. The coachman, I have understood, is a recent acquisition, taken, I believe, upon the recommendation of this Merrick, and while he seems eminently satisfactory as a coachman, I have my doubts as to whether he will prove quite so satisfactory to his superior officer upon his return. Ah! I see, ejaculated the other, he is what might be denominated a sub. Yes, and so exceedingly verdant, that McCabe thought it worthwhile to make his acquaintance, but now to present business. Then the strange story was repeated. Mr. Sutherland listening with grave attention, which deepened as the recital proceeded, until at its completion he could scarcely restrain his enthusiasm. Exultation was plainly written on his face, but there was a peculiar gentleness in his manner, as he first approached his young client, saying in a low tone as he cordially grasped his hand.  Old Mainwearing bowed silently, and Mr. Sutherland, turning towards the English barrister, exclaimed, this explains everything. This will make our case absolutely incontrovertible. But first, we must secure that man at all hazards, and at any cost, just as quickly as possible, think what a witness he will make. Just what I had in mind was the response, and McCabe is the man to locate him if he is upon the face of the earth. But we must decide immediately upon our own course of action, for this will necessitate certain changes in our plans, and we must act at once, and at the same time, with the utmost caution and secrecy. Dinner was ordered and served in the privacy of their own apartments that they might be entirely free from intrusion or interruptions during their deliberations. And it was at a late hour when their consultation ended they gathered about the open fire with their cigars, awaiting, with much self-congratulation and cheerful talk the return of the absent McCabe. John found it, exclaimed Mr. Barton presently, glancing at his watch. What in the deuce is keeping that fellow so late? If we had not especially wanted him, he would have been here two hours ago. Perhaps, suggested Mr. Sutherland, he may have found the coachman more communicative than he anticipated. He has doubtless struck some clue which he is following, was the reply, but at that instant there was a light tap at the door, and the man generally known as the English barrister's clerk entered. Well, Mac, said Mr. Barton cheerfully, speak of the devil. You know what follows. What luck to-night! Very fair, sir, said the man, quietly taking in the situation at a glance as he noted the eager, expectant faces of the four men, and dropping into a chair near the group he instantly assumed an attitude of close attention. Ordinarily McCabe was, as Mr. Whitney had remarked, rather an insignificant-looking man. He was below medium stature and somewhat dull in appearance, following to the fact that he seemed to take little interest in his surroundings, while his face, when his eyes were concealed, as was generally the case, by the heavily drooping lids and long eyelashes, was absolutely expressionless. When however he raised his eyes and fixed them upon anyone, the effect was much the same as though a searchlight suddenly flashed in one's face. But this was only upon rare occasions, and few casual observers would dream of the keen perceptive faculties hidden beneath that quiet exterior. Tell us your story first, Mac, said Mr. Barton, after a moment's silence, thoroughly understanding his man. Ours will keep for a little bit. There's not much to tell, sir. How are you and the coachman coming on? We'll not be very intimate after to-night, I'm thinking. How is that? questioned the attorney, at the same time smiling broadly at his companions. Well, sir, there'll be no call for it. For one thing, as I've got all the points in this case I And for another, his chief returned this evening, and from the few words I overheard upon his arrival, I don't think the coachman will feel overconfidential the next time he sees me, and McCabe smiled grimly to himself. So, Merrick is back, interposed Mr. Stutherland laughing. Did you and he meet? Me, sir. Ah, no, not much of that. I heard a step coming up the stairs, and as I thought the room was hardly big enough for three, I excused myself to Mr. Jim Matheson, alias Matthews the Coachman, and made for the hall. We passed each other at the head of the stairs, and I cluttered down, making as much racket as I could, then, at the foot of the stairs, I took off my boots, and crept up stairs again, more to hear the fellow's voice than anything else, so I could recognize him afterwards. What did you hear, inquired Mr. Barton, as McCabe paused to light a cigar which Mr. Stutherland had handed him. I heard him say, who was that I passed outside, Jim? Only a cross-country friend of mine, says Jim. What friends are you entertaining here in these quarters, says he, kind of sharp like? And sure, says Jim, it was only Dan McCoy, the clerk of that big London lawyer who has come over with the young Mr. Mainwearing I've heard you speak of, and a right clever fellow he is, too.  Do you want to know, says he, who you've been entertaining?  I didn't stay to hear more, McCabe concluded. I got out. But how does this Merrick know you, Mr. Barton inquired, as the laughter caused by McCabe's recital subsided. He doesn't know me, he only knows of me, the man replied. I found that out an hour or two later when I met him in a crowd at the Wellington Hotel. The speaker glanced curiously in the direction of Harold Mainwearing for an instant, and then continued, I knew him by his voice, but I spoke with him, and he had no idea who I was. But how has he heard of you, persisted Mr. Barton. There was an American detective, a friend of his, who came over on the companion, on the same trip with Mr. Mainwearing. He was following up a case in London, but he managed to keep his eye on Mr. Mainwearing and keep this Merrick posted of all that he was doing. It was because of some remarks of his that I got wind of, that I determined from the first to get on to his game. Well, Mac, said Mr. Barton tentatively, are you ready to go to work now? The keen eyes flashed for an instant in the attorney's face. Then the man answered quietly, if you have nothing to tell me, I'm ready to go to work on my own hook, and in my own way. If you have anything to say, I'll hear it. Mr. Barton glanced at the others. We had better tell Macabe what we have learned, and also just what our plans are. The others bowed in assent, and the chairs were drawn closer together while Mr. Barton, in low tones, told as briefly and clearly as possible the discovery which they had made. Macabe listened to the attorney's story, but whether or not the secret were already guessed by him his face gave no sign. When it was ended he glanced curiously at Harold Mainwearing. Mrs. LaGrange told you this? She did. At what time, if you please, sir? At about half-past five. Are you aware, sir, that with the exception of her maid, you were probably the last person who saw Mrs. LaGrange living? Saw her living? Harold Mainwearing repeated, astonished. While Mr. Barton demanded, what do you mean, Mac? I mean, sir, said Macabe slowly, that Mrs. LaGrange committed suicide at about seven o'clock this evening, less than two hours after Mr. Mainwearing saw her. When did you learn of this? What do you know of the affair? questioned the attorneys quickly, while Harold Mainwearing more deeply shocked than he would have thought possible listened to the man's reply. I happened along by the Wellington about two hours ago, and saw a considerable stir around there. I learned it was a case of suicide, but thought nothing of it till I heard the woman's name. Then I dropped in and picked up the facts in the case, and he proceeded to relate the details of the affair. As Harold Mainwearing listened, he recalled the looks and words of the wretched woman, her genuine misery, her falsehood and deceit, her piteous pleadings, and the final rage and scorn with which she had rejected his assistance, even in the face of such desperation and despair. And a sickening sense of horror stole over him, rendering him almost oblivious to the conversation around him. "'Twas there, I saw this man, Merrick,' McCabe was saying in conclusion. I heard him questioning the maid about Mr. Mainwearing's interview with the woman. He evidently was on to that. I saw the girl myself shortly afterwards, and gave her a hint and a bit of money to keep her mouth shut about Mr. Mainwearing. She seemed pretty bright, and I think she will understand her business.' "'Confound that metalsome Yankee. What was he prowling around there for?' interrupted Mr. Scott angrily. He has no business prying into Harold Scott Mainwearing's affairs, and I'll have him understand it, let him attend to his own duties. And I think, from all reports, he will have his hands more than full then. Mr. Sutherland,' he continued addressing the attorney, "'There's no knowing what that beastly bungler who calls himself a detective will do next. This thing is likely to be out in the morning papers with the boy's name mixed up in it. And it must be stopped right here. His name must be kept out of this at any price, and you can probably reach the New York press better than any one of us.' "'You are right,' said Mr. Sutherland, rising hastily and preparing to leave. Our client wants no notoriety of that sort, and I will make sure that nothing of the kind occurs. I have a friend who has unlimited influence with the newspaper men, and I will have him attend to the matter at once, and see to it that everything of that nature is suppressed.' "'That is best,' said Harold Mainwearing gravely, coming forward. I would have rendered the woman any necessary assistance. I am willing to do whatever is needful now, but living or dead, her name shall never be coupled with my father's name and mine.' "'You understand, of course, that money is no object in this matter,' added Mr. Scott. "'I understand perfectly, sir,' said the attorney courteously. "'Everything will be attended to. And Mr. Barton, you will kindly confer with Mr. McCabe, and I will see you in the morning regarding your final decision. Good night, gentlemen.' An hour later McCabe took his departure. Of his own theories or plans he had said little more than he was to leave the Walder of that night for another part of the city, but all details for communication with him in case of necessity had been carefully arranged. Your clerk has suddenly been called to London on important business,' he said to Mr. Barton with a quiet smile, adding, "'You may meet me, occasionally, but it's not likely or best that you recognize me, and when I have anything to report, you will hear from me.' And with these words he was gone. When at last Harold Mainwaring and his foster father were again by themselves, the latter, noting the young man's abstraction, said, "'This is not surely a great shock to you, my boy, but it is only what might be expected after such a life as hers. You have done nothing for which to censor yourself. You have done all that could be done under existing conditions, and more than was actually required of you. So you need have no regrets over the affair. I understand that, sir, but the thought that I cannot manage from my mind is, knowing so well her treachery and deceit, is it possible that she herself had a hand in the murder, and finding at last that there was no hope of gaining my friendship, did she fear the developments which might follow from what she had told?' The elder man shook his head thoughtfully. "'We cannot say, my boy. The thought occurred to me almost instantaneously, for, without doubt, she both hated and feared him, but time alone will tell."