to
mention the subject. This only showed me still more plainly the
miserable truth.

"Years passed. I found myself driven out from my father's affections.
You were the world to him. I, his eldest daughter, was nothing. You
were his heiress. Good God! woman, do you think I could help hating
one who calmly appropriated every thing that ought to be mine?"

"Now you know about as much as you need know. I began years ago to
plan against you, and kept it up with never-failing patience. It was
the only pleasure I had in life. I won't go into particulars. I'll
only say that nearly all your troubles came through my management.
From time to time hereafter you will gradually remember various
things, and think with tender regret upon your loving Hilda.

"At last things were all ripe, and I slipped away. I got you out of
the way also, and I frankly avow that I never expected to have the
pleasure of seeing you again. I also hoped that Lord Chetwynde would
not come back from India. But he came, and there is where I broke
down. That is all I have to say."

Hilda stopped, and looked defiantly at them.

"Young woman," said Obed Chute, in calm, measured tones, "you are
very aggravating. It is well that you have generous people to deal
with. I don't know but that I ought to take you now and hand you over
to the police, to be lodged in the same cell with your friend
Gualtier; but--"

"Gualtier!" groaned Hilda. "What?"

"Yes, Gualtier. I caught him yesterday, and handed him over to the
police."

Hilda looked around wildly, and with a deeper despair in her heart.

"You," continued Obed, "are much worse than he. In this business he
was only your tool. But you're a woman, and are, therefore, sacred.
You are safe. It would be better, however, and much more becoming in
you, to refrain from that aggravating way of speaking which you have
just used. But there is one question which I wish to ask, and then
our interview will terminate:

"You say you believe yourself to be the elder daughter of General
Pomeroy?"

"Yes."

"Do you know your mother's maiden name?"

"Yes. Hilda Krieff."

"Did she ever tell you about her marriage?"

"I was too young when she died."

"Did you ever see any record of her marriage?"

"No."

"You know nothing definite about it, then?"

"No."

"Well, then, allow me to inform you that you are as much astray here
as you were in that other thing. This Hilda Krieff was the wife of
Pemberton Pomeroy--mar