u; but that if he does, the War Office and the world
shall know what he is, and what he has done.'

Still Springfield did not give in. He turned again to Lorna Bolivick,
and as he did so I realized, as I never realized before, that the man
really loved her. I believed then, as I believe now, that all his
hopes, all his plottings, were centred in one desire, and that was to
win the love of this girl.

'Miss Bolivick, Lorna,' he said hoarsely, 'you do not tell me to go, do
you? You believe in me? I will admit that things look against me; but
I swear to you that I am as innocent of their charges as you are;
that--that----' He ceased speaking suddenly, as though his words were
frozen on his lips, then he burst out like a man in agony, 'Why do you
look at me like that?' he gasped.

But she did not speak. Instead, she stood still, and looked at him
steadily. There was an unearthly expression in her eyes; she seemed to
be trying to look into his soul, to read his innermost thoughts. For a
few seconds there was a deathly silence, then with a quick movement she
turned and left the room.

Again Springfield looked from face to face as if he were hoping for
support; then I saw pride flash into his eyes.

'Lady Bolivick, Sir Thomas,' he said quietly, 'I am deeply sorry that
this--this scene should have taken place. As you know I am not
responsible. Thank you for your kind hospitality.' Then he turned and
left the room, and a few seconds later we heard his footsteps on the
gravel outside.

CHAPTER XL

MAURICE ST. MABYN'S GENEROSITY

Of what happened afterwards, and of the explanations which were given,
it is not for me to write. They do not come within the scope of this
history, and would be scarcely of interest to the reader. One thing,
however; specially interested me, and that was the large-heartedness of
Maurice St. Mabyn. He refused to allow his brother to attempt any
explanation, although I felt sure he understood what his brother had
done.

'Of course you could not help believing me dead, George,' he said with
a laugh. 'That fellow Springfield sent home and brought home all sorts
of circumstantial evidence, and you naturally took things over. No,
not another word. The fellow has gone, and I'll see that he stays
away.'

'But--but why didn't you write, Maurice?' stammered the other.

'Couldn't, my dear chap. For more than two years I was away from
civilization; for six months I was a prison