With a sigh of passionate relief Vincent Dashwood watched the cab drive away. He hardly knew what he had to fear, and yet he discovered the fact that he had got rid of some great danger. True, Ralph Darnley had more or less betrayed his secret to Mrs. Speed, but then that discovery might have been made at any moment.

Dashwood called impatiently to the tenant of the house. No reply came. He walked into the dining-room muttering to himself. Mrs. Speed stood there by the fireplace, her hands clasped convulsively together, her face hard and grey. Once in his life Dashwood had been in court and heard a woman sentenced to death. It came back to him now that the face of the criminal had looked exactly like Mrs. Speed's.

"What on earth is the matter with you?" he asked brutally.

"Wait a moment," the woman said hoarsely. "I was thinking, I was trying to get it all clear in my brain. It seems impossible, altogether preposterous. He told me that you were Sir Vincent Dashwood. He wasn't mad, was he?"

"Perhaps not," Dashwood grinned, "but I shall think you are if you go on like this. I didn't dare to tell you at first because you do such foolish things. You are quite good enough to have written to the old girl and told her everything. It is a very fortunate thing that Lady Dashwood regards you as being no longer in the world."

"Is it? Are you sure that Lady Dashwood thinks me dead?"

"Of course she does. I got that out of her by judicious pumping. Now that Ralph Darnley has given me away I can tell you the whole truth. I got sick of plodding in the City on small pay and hard work. One or two things you told me gave me an idea of the game. I got hold of all those letters and things and learned them by heart. Gradually, the whole story was mine. Then I pretended to you that I had something to do in the north. I didn't go north at all; I went down to Dashwood and introduced myself to the old lady. She asked me a lot of questions, and I replied to them satisfactorily. Of course, she did not recognise me as the boy I was when we left the parish seventeen years ago. And she put old Slight on me, too. Well, I satisfied old Slight, too, though at the first go-off he also regarded me as an impostor. Still, I hadn't the nerve to go the whole thing, and pretended that I desired to wait till the old lady was dead. And she was so much in love with the girl who was here just now that she allowed me to have my own way. It was only when I looked like getting into trouble over a charge of burning the Hall down that I had to speak. And blest if Ralph Darnley did not come forward and produce the very marriage certificate that I needed. It was as easy as falling off a house. Everybody gave way to me without a struggle, I stepped into the estate and the title. That is not more than a week ago. The only people who made a fuss were the lawyers. That is why I came to you for those letters. But I shall soon stop the mouths of those old landsharks, and then we shall have a good time. No more dodging about and worrying over your rent in the future, mother."

But Mrs. Speed shared no joy in the prospect of her emancipation. The grey look had not left her face and the strained terror was still in her eyes.

"I didn't mind it," she said. "At any rate, I have tried to be honest. And so you claimed the estate of the Dashwoods on the ground that you are the son of Ralph Dashwood, and all the time Ralph Darnley, as he calls himself, was looking on. Has the man any bitter grudge against you?"

"Why should he? I never saw him in my life till a little less than a month ago."

"And he permits this farce to go on! Why? What strange scheme has he in his mind? Oh, why did he not turn up before, and prevent this great temptation from being forced on you?"

The listener stared in astonishment at Mrs. Speed. A feeling of danger troubled him. He caught the woman almost roughly by the shoulder and shook her.

"What is the matter with you?" he demanded. "Why can't you speak out? Who is this Ralph Darnley that you should be in such mortal fear of him?"

"There is no Ralph Darnley," Mrs. Speed cried. "That man is Ralph Dashwood, the son of the Dashwood who married my sister and then disappeared. How do I know? Why, he is the very image of his father, as the latter was as a young fellow. Directly he came into the room just now I recognised him. You could have knocked me down with a feather. I have a portrait of Ralph Dashwood upstairs--I only turned it out last night. And when I show you that photo you will have no doubts as to who this Ralph Darnley is. Why he is allowing you to stand in his shoes is a mystery. When he comes to declare his identity he will make very short work of you, Vincent."

"Go up and............