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no occasion for you to have anything more to do with the matter. There is practically no doubt that your Aunt Adelaide’s child died when he was a baby. Do you imagine that we did not take the greatest pains, at your grandfather’s death, to find out if he was still alive? I have not the slightest doubt that his father is dead too. If you had ever been allowed to know anything of Gaston Ste. Croix, as I do, you would realise that he was certainly not the man to remain in hiding where money was concerned. A dreadful man! I have spent an almost sleepless night recalling stories about him.”

Aunt Sophia sailed out of the room. Pamela spent an agitated morning, anxiously expecting Archie. He did not come—one never could depend on Archie!—but sent a note to say he was awfully sorry, but really could not manage it—he would turn up in the afternoon—and another hurried scrawl later, putting off his visit till the next day. Pamela chafed, but was helpless. She pleaded a headache, and refused to go out, feverishly awaiting the following morning and Archie.

He came. Aunt Sophia, divided between anxiety to treat matters with a light hand and yet prevent Pamela from concerning herself in them any further, interviewed the youth herself. She suggested that it really was unnecessary for Pamela to be there, but Pamela thought otherwise, though she left most of the questioning to Aunt Sophia.

They got very little satisfaction out of Archie, who obviously had little to tell, and was dumbfounded at Pamela’s brief account of Tony’s revelation to her.

“It must have been only a joke, Pam, though he’s the last sort of chap I should have suspected of such a rotten jest; but you see, if he knew really he was Lord Trent, and all that, he’d naturally stay and fight it out, instead of simply going away.”