they were in a garden seat
behind the rose-bench. The rose-bench was a rather sorry affair, for
it had been set out in this exposed place by a former gardener who had
forgotten that the direct winds from the Sound are malgracious to
roses. However, it screened the two, and was far enough removed so that
ordinary tones would not carry to the house.

"Did your grandmother get you word about the police?" Maggie asked with
suppressed excitement as soon as they were seated.

"Yes. She came out here about midnight."

"Then why, while you still had time, didn't you get farther away from
New York than this?"

"If I'm to be caught, I'm to be caught; in the meantime, this is as safe
a place as any other for me. Besides, I wanted to have at least one more
talk with you--after something new grandmother told me about you."

"Something new about me?" echoed Maggie, startled by his grave tone.
"What?"

"About your father," he said, watching closely for the effect upon her
of his revelations.

"What about my father? What's he been doing that I don't know about?"

"You do not know a single thing that your father has done."

"What!"

"Because you do not know who your father is."

"What!" she gasped.

"Listen, Maggie. What I'm going to tell you may seem unbelievable, but
you've got to believe it, because it's the truth. I can see that you
have proofs if you want proofs. But you can accept what I tell you as
absolute facts. You are by birth a very different person from what you
believe yourself. Your father is not Jimmie Carlisle. And your mother--"

"Larry!" She tensely gripped his arm.

"Your mother was of a good family. I imagine something like Miss
Sherwood's kind--though not so rich and not having such social standing.
She died when you were born. She never knew what your father's business
actually was; he passed for a country gentleman. He was about the
smoothest and biggest crook of his time, and a straight crook if there
is such a thing."

"Larry!" she breathed.

"He kept this gentleman-farmer side of his life and his marriage
entirely hidden from his crook acquaintances; that is, from all except
one whom he trusted as his most loyal friend. Before you were old enough
to remember, he was tripped up and sent away on a twenty-year sentence."

"And he's--he's still in prison?" whispered Maggie.

Larry did not heed the interruption. "He had developed the highest kind
of ambition for you. He wanted you to grow up