ecent person.
Every door will be shut against you. If you do what you threaten,
everyone shall know the truth--"

"The whole world may shut its doors--there is only one door that must
open to me, the door of Colonel Dundas's house, where, until to-day, I
was sure of a welcome, and almost sure of a wife. I am sorry for you,
because it is obviously painful for a mother to contemplate the downfall
of her son. You naturally strive to screen him by every means in your
power. It is the common instinct of humanity. But I tell you"--and here
he raised his fist with unwonted emphasis--"I'll kill him, hound him
down, make his life unbearable. The country will be too hot to hold him.
First a felon, then a convict, then an outcast, a marked man, a
wastrel--"

"I beg of you--I beseech you! You don't understand--everything. If I
could tell you, you would at least have a different point of view of
Dick's honor. It's I who--who--"

"Honor! Don't talk to me about honor! How is it he's alive? Why isn't he
beside his comrade, Jack Lorrimer, who died rather than betray his
country? It is easy to see how he escaped the bullets of the firing
party. He told his secret, and heaven alone knows how many dead men lie
at his door as the result of that treachery."

"It is false!"

"If I err, Mrs. Swinton, it is because I believe that a forger is always
a sneak and a thief. I judge men as I find them. I speculate upon their
unseen acts by what has gone before. A brave man is always a brave man, a
coward always a coward, a thief always a thief, because it is his natural
bent. It is useless to prolong this interview. You lose your son; I gain
a wife. The world will be well rid of a dangerous citizen. Allow me to
open the side door for you. It is the quickest way."

Of what avail was her sudden avalanche of wealth? It could not move the
determination of this remorseless man. If she confessed the truth--it was
on her lips a dozen times to cry aloud her sin--he would only transfer
his animosity to her, because it would hurt Dick the more. Next to
humiliating his rival, to humble the wife of the rector of St. Botolph's
would be a triumph for Ormsby. She took refuge in a last frantic lie.

"My father signed the checks for those amounts. The alterations were made
in his presence--by me. I saw him sign them. He knew very well what he
was doing then. But, since, he has forgotten. His denial is folly. Dick
is innocent. I can swear to it."

Ormsby smi