aim it.

"It was a very sad thing for you, Mr. Trevelyan. I am heartily grieved
for you."

"I must bear it like a man. I am not the first who has lost a fortune."

But Sir John would not hear of my final arrangements until we had been
to Lincoln and had seen the child.

"No one knows the depth of those French women," he said. "It is possible
there may be no child. Let us take her by surprise this very day, and
ask her to accompany us to the house where the nurse lives."

Both lawyers applauded the idea.

"If there be any imposture we are sure to find it out," they said.

Without a minute's loss of time, Mrs. Trevelyan was asked to join us in
the library. She complied at once.

"We want you to go with us to Lincoln to show us the child," said Sir
John, abruptly.

She consented at once so readily that I felt certain that our quest was
useless. We started in an hour's time, my poor Clare being led to
believe that we had gone to Harden on a visit.

We reached Lincoln about six o'clock at night. While we stood in the
station waiting for a cab Mr. Paine turned suddenly to Coralie.

"What is the address?" he asked.

Again there was not a moment's hesitation.

"No. 6 Lime Cottages, Berkdale Road," she replied; and fast as a
somewhat tired horse could take us we went there.

We reached the place at last; a row of pretty cottages that in summer
must have been sheltered by the lime trees, and the door of No. 6 was
quickly opened to us--opened by a woman with a pleasant face, who looked
exceedingly astonished at seeing us. Coralie came forward.

"I had no time to write and warn you of this visit, Mrs. Smith. Be kind
enough to answer any questions these gentlemen may wish to ask you."

We all made way for Mr. Paine. I shall never forget the group, the
anxiety and suspense on each face.

"Have you a child here in your charge?" asked the lawyer.

But she looked at Coralie.

"Am I to answer, madam?"

"You are to answer any questions put to you; my story is known."

"Have you a child here in your charge?" he repeated.

"I have," she repeated.

"Who is it? Tell us in your own words, if you please."

"He is the son of the late Mr. Miles Trevelyan and his wife, who was
Mademoiselle d'Aubergne."

"Where were they married?" he asked.

"They were married at the Church of St. Helen's, Edgerton. I was one
witness; the other was Arthur Ireton, the head game-keeper."

"Where was this child born?" he asked again.