nd restored to her position as a Hazen and Georgian's twin.
The discovery might not prove welcome. It would have a tendency to throw
Mr. Hazen's own claim into the disrepute he would cast on hers. But this
consideration could have no weight with Mr. Ransom. He decided upon
candor at all costs. It suited his nature best, and it also suited the
strange and doubtful situation. Mr. Harper might have concluded
differently, but Mr. Harper was not there to give advice; and the matter
would not wait. Little as he understood this Hazen, he recognized that he
was not a man to trifle with. Something would have to be said or done.

Meeting the latter's eye frankly, he remarked:

"I have no wish to keep anything back from you. I am as much struck
as you are by the mystery of this whole occurrence. I was as hard to
convince. This is my story. It involves all that is known here with the
exception of such facts as have been kept from us by the three parties
directly concerned--of which three I consider you one."

As the last four words fell from his lips he looked for some change,
slight and hardly perceptible perhaps, in the other's expression. But he
was doomed to disappointment. The steady regard held, nothing moved about
the man, not even the hand into which the poor disfigured chin had
fallen. Ransom suppressed a sigh. His task was likely to prove a blind
one. He had a sense of stumbling in the dark, but the gaze he had hoped
to see falter compelled him to proceed, and he told his story without
subterfuge or suppression.

One thing, and only one thing, caused a movement in the set figure before
him. When he mentioned the will which Georgian had made a few hours prior
to her disappearance, Hazen's hand slipped aside from the wound it had
sought to cover, and Ransom caught sight of the sudden throb which
deepened its hue. It was the one infallible sign that the man was not
wholly without feeling, and it had sprung to life at an intimation
involving _money_.

When his tale was quite finished, he rose. So did Hazen.

"Let us see this girl," suggested the latter.

It was the first word he had spoken since Ransom began his story.

"She is up-stairs. I will go see--"

"No, _we_ will go see. I particularly desire to take her unawares."

Ransom offered no objection. Perhaps he felt interested in the experiment
himself. Together they left the room, together they went up-stairs. A
turmoil of questions followed them from the throng