ude. And almost at once after the trial his wife
died.

"Here my late uncle, Jacob Herapath, came forward. He went north,
assumed possession and guardianship of the child, and took her away from
Southampton. He took her into Buckinghamshire and there placed her in
the care of some people named Bristowe, who were farmers near Aylesbury
and whom he knew very well. In the care of Mrs. Bristowe, the child
remained until she was between six and seven years old. Then she was
removed to Jacob Herapath's own house in Portman Square, where she has
remained ever since. My cousin, I believe, has a very accurate
recollection of her residence with the Bristowes, and she will remember
being brought from Buckinghamshire to London at the time I have spoken
of."

Barthorpe paused for a moment and looked at Peggie. But Peggie, who was
listening intently with downcast head, made no remark, and he presently
continued.

"Now, not so very long after that--I mean, after the child was brought
to Portman Square--another person came to the house as a permanent
resident. His name was given to the servants as Mr. Tertius. The
conditions of his residence were somewhat peculiar. He had rooms of his
own; he did as he liked. Sometimes he joined Jacob Herapath at meals;
sometimes he did not. There was an air of mystery about him. What was
it? I will tell you in a word--the mystery or its secret, was this--the
man Tertius, who sits there now, was in reality the girl's father! He
was Arthur John Wynne, the ex-convict--the clever forger!"

CHAPTER XXIV

COLD STEEL

The two men who formed what one may call the alien and impartial audience
at that table were mutually and similarly impressed by a certain feature
of Barthorpe Herapath's speech--its exceeding malevolence. As he went on
from sentence to sentence, his eyes continually turned to Mr. Tertius,
who sat, composed and impassive, listening, and in them was a gleam
which could not be mistaken--the gleam of bitter, personal dislike. Mr.
Halfpenny and Professor Cox-Raythwaite both saw that look and drew their
own conclusions, and when Barthorpe spat out his last words, the man of
science turned to the man of law and muttered a sharp sentence in Latin
which no one else caught. And Mr. Halfpenny nodded and muttered a word
or two back before he turned to Barthorpe.

"Even supposing--mind, I only say supposing--even supposing you are
correct in all you say--and I don't know that you are," he