of the pistol that was bulging the
breast-pocket on the inside of his coat. If it had been a question of
physical attack, he knew now that he would have never been given time,
or opportunity for making use of his weapon.

Lord Blandamer had travelled north and south, east and west; he had seen
and done strange things; he had stood for his life in struggles whence
only one could come out alive; but here was no question of flesh and
blood--he had to face principles, those very principles on which he
relied for respite; he had to face that integrity of Westray which made
persuasion or bribery alike impossible. He had never seen this picture
before, and he looked at it intently for some minutes; but his attention
was all the while concentrated on the man who stood beside him. This
was his last chance--he could afford to make no mistake; and his soul,
or whatever that thing may be called which is certainly not the body,
was closing with Westray's soul in a desperate struggle for mastery.

Westray was not seeing the picture for the first time, and after one
glance he stood aloof. The interview was becoming even more painful
than he had expected. He avoided looking Lord Blandamer in the face,
yet presently, at a slight movement, turned and met his eye.

"Yes, it is my grandfather," said the other.

There was nothing in the words, and yet it seemed to Westray as if some
terrible confidence was being thrust upon him against his will; as if
Lord Blandamer had abandoned any attempt to mislead, and was tacitly
avowing all that might be charged against him. The architect began to
feel that he was now regarded as a personal enemy, though he had never
so considered himself. It was true that picture and papers had fallen
into his hands, but he knew that a sense of duty was the only motive of
any action that he might be taking.

"You promised, I think, to show me some papers," Lord Blandamer said.

Most painfully Westray handed them over; his knowledge of their contents
made it seem that he was offering a deliberate insult. He wished
fervently that he never had made any proposal for this meeting; he ought
to have given everything to the proper authorities, and have let the
blow fall as it would. Such an interview could only end in bitterness:
its present result was that here in Lord Blandamer's own house, he,
Westray, was presenting him with proofs of his father's illegitimacy,
with proofs that he had no right to this hou