knew for Paul Drayton, the innkeeper at Hendon.

But so much light on one small spot only made the surrounding gloom more
dark. Far more important than any question of who this man was by repute
was the other question of why he was there. Wherefore had he come? Why
did he not come openly? What hidden reason had he for moving like a
shadow where he knew no one and was known of none?

Hugh thought again of the circumstance of his mother's strange seizure.
Last night he had formulated his theory respecting it. And it was simple
enough. The second man, whoever he was, had, for whatever reason, come
to the house, and, failing to attract attention in the hall, had
wandered aimlessly upstairs to the first room in which he heard a noise.
That room happened to be his mother's, and when the stranger, with the
fatal resemblance to her absent son, presented himself before her in
that strange way, at that strange hour, in that strange place, the fear
had leaped to her heart that it was his wraith warning her of his death,
and she had fainted and fallen.

The theory had its serious loop-holes for incredulity, but Hugh Ritson
minded them not at all. Another and a graver issue tortured him.

But this morning, by the light of Mercy's letter, his view was clearer.
If the man who resembled Paul had come secretly to Newlands, he must
have had his reasons for not declaring himself. If he had wandered when
none was near into Mrs. Ritson's room, it must have been because he had
a purpose there. And his mother's seizure might not have been due to
purely superstitious fears, or her silence to shattered nerves.

There was one thing to do, and that was to get at the heart of this
mystery. Whoever he was, this second man was to be the living influence
in all their lives.

Thus far, one thing only was plain--that Paul Ritson was not the
half-brother of Greta.

Hugh determined to travel south forthwith. If the other man was still
beating about Newlands, so much the better. Hugh would be able to see
the old woman, his mother, and talk with her undisturbed by the
suspicions of a cunning man.

Hugh spent most of that day in his office at the pit-head, settling up
such business as could not await his return. On Wednesday morning early
he dispatched Natt on foot with a letter to Mr. Bonnithorne, explaining
succinctly, but with shrewd reservations, the recent turn of events.
Then he stepped for a moment into his mother's room.

Mrs. Ritson had r