y as you please, Tertius," replied Mr.
Halfpenny. "Whether he'll answer them or not is another matter. He ought
to."

"I shall answer them if I please, and I shall not answer them if I don't
want to," said Barthorpe sullenly. "You can put them, anyway. But
they'll make no difference--I know what I'm talking about."

"So do I," said Mr. Tertius. "And really, as we come here to get at the
truth, it will be all the better for everybody concerned if you do
answer my questions. Now--you say I am in reality Arthur Wynne, the
father of your cousin, the brother-in-law of Jacob Herapath. What you
have said about Arthur John Wynne is unfortunately only too true. It is
true that he erred and was punished--severely. In due course he went to
Portland. I want to ask you what became of him afterwards?--you say you
have full knowledge."

"You mean, what became of you afterwards," sneered Barthorpe. "I know
when you left Portland. You left it for London--and you came to London
to be sheltered, under your assumed name, by Jacob Herapath."

"No more than that?" asked Mr. Tertius.

"That's enough," answered Barthorpe. "You left Portland in April, 1897;
you came to London when you were discharged; in June of that year you'd
taken up your residence under Jacob Herapath's roof. And it's no use
your trying to bluff me--I've traced your movements!"

"With the aid, no doubt, of Mr. Burchill there," observed Mr. Tertius,
dryly. "But----"

Burchill drew himself up.

"Sir!" he exclaimed. "That is an unwarrantable assumption, and----"

"Unwarrantable assumptions, Mr. Burchill, appear to be present in great
quantity," interrupted Mr. Tertius, with an air of defiance which
surprised everybody. "Don't you interrupt me, sir!--I'll deal with you
before long in a way that will astonish you. Now, Mr. Barthorpe
Herapath," he went on, turning to that person with determination, "I
will astonish you somewhat, for I honestly believe you really have some
belief in what you say. I am not Arthur John Wynne. I am what I have
always been--John Christopher Tertius, as a considerable number of
people in this town can prove. But I knew Arthur John Wynne. When he
left Portland he came to me here in London--at the suggestion of Jacob
Herapath. I then lived in Bloomsbury--I had recently lost my wife. I
took Wynne to live with me. But he had not long to live. If you had
searched into matters more deeply, you would have found that he got his
discharge earlier tha