as I did, I thought perhaps it wasn't."

"And as Lady Sophia happens to be in London now," put in Mr. Oxford,
"she is good enough to give her invaluable evidence on my behalf."

"That is scarcely the way to describe it," said Lady Sophia coldly. "I
am only here because you compel me to be here by subpoena. It is all due
to your acquaintanceship with my aunt."

"Quite so, quite so!" Mr. Oxford agreed. "It naturally can't be very
agreeable to you to have to go into the witness-box and submit to
cross-examination. Certainly not. And I am the more obliged to you for
your kindness, Lady Sophia."

Priam comprehended the situation. Lady Sophia, after his supposed death,
had imparted to relatives the fact of his engagement, and the
unscrupulous scoundrel, Mr. Oxford, had got hold of her and was forcing
her to give evidence for him. And after the evidence, the joke of every
man in the street would be to the effect that Priam Farll, rather than
marry the skinny spinster, had pretended to be dead.

"You see," Mr. Oxford added to him, "the important point about Lady
Sophia's evidence is that in Paris she saw both you and your valet--the
valet obviously a servant, and you obviously his master. There can,
therefore, be no question of her having been deceived by the valet
posing as the master. It is a most fortunate thing that by a mere
accident I got on the tracks of Lady Sophia in time. In the nick of
time. Only yesterday afternoon!"

No reference by Mr. Oxford to Priam's obstinacy in the matter of
collars. He appeared to regard Priam's collar as a phenomenon of nature,
such as the weather, or a rock in the sea, as something to be accepted
with resignation! No sign of annoyance with Priam! He was the prince of
diplomatists, was Mr. Oxford.

"Can I speak to you a minute?" said Lady Sophia to Priam.

Mr. Oxford stepped away with a bow.

And Lady Sophia looked steadily at Priam. He had to admit again that she
was stupendous. She was his capital mistake; but she was stupendous.

At their last interview he had embraced her. She had attended his
funeral in Westminster Abbey. And she could suppress all that from her
eyes! She could stand there calm and urbane in her acceptance of the
terrific past. Apparently she forgave.

Said Lady Sophia simply, "Now, Mr. Farll, shall I have to give evidence
or not? You know it depends on you?"

The casualness of her tone was sublime; it was heroic; it made her feet
small.

He had sworn t