her
aid and gave her courage. She murmured the usual formula of unexpected
pleasure. He bowed, finding no pleasure in this part of his revenge.
Arthur Dillon could not have been more considerate of Messalina.

"It is certainly a privilege and an honor," said he, "to be suspected of
so charming a relationship with Mrs. Endicott. Nevertheless I have
persuaded your lawyer, Mr. Livingstone, that it would be unprofitable
and imprudent to bring me into the suit for divorce. He will so advise
you I think to-day."

She smiled at the compliment and felt reassured.

"There were some things which I could not tell the lawyer," he went on,
"and so I made bold to call on you personally. It is disagreeable, what
I must tell you. My only apology is that you yourself have made this
visit necessary by bringing my name into the case."

Her smile died away, and her face hardened. She prepared herself for
trouble.

"I told your lawyer that if the papers were served on me, and a public
and official doubt thrown on my right to the name of Arthur Dillon, I
would not let the business drop until the Endicott-Curran-Dillon mystery
had been thoroughly ventilated in the courts. He agreed with me that
this would expose the Endicott name to scandal."

"We have been perhaps too careful from the beginning about the Endicott
name," she said severely. "Which is the reason why no advance has been
made in the search for my dear husband."

"That may be true, Mrs. Endicott. You must not forget, however, that you
will be a witness, and Mrs. Curran, and her husband, and Mr. Quincy
Lenox, and others besides. How do you think these people would stand
questioning as to who your little boy, called Horace Endicott, really
is?"

She sat prepared for a dangerous surprise, but not for this horror; and
the life left her on the spot, for the poor weed was as soft and
cowardly as any other product of the swamp. He rang for restoratives and
sent for her maid. In ten minutes, somewhat restored, she faced the
ordeal, if only to learn what this terrible man knew.

"Who are you?" she asked feebly, the same question asked by Curran in
his surprise.

"A friend of Horace Endicott," he answered quietly.

"And what do you know of us?"

"All that Horace knew."

She could not summon courage to put a third question. He came to her
aid.

"Perhaps you are not sure about what Horace knew? Shall I tell you? I
did not tell your lawyer. I only hinted that the truth woul