Mr. Hooper, leaning back in his chair, surveyed his cousin as if he were some strange animal.  
"Although your conduct strikes me as--shall I say?--abnormal, I don't wish to insinuate anything disagreeable, my dear Frank; still, if you are sane I wish you'd prove it."
 
Mr. Clifford passed his handkerchief across his brow, as if he found the temperature trying.
 
"It's all very well to laugh--if you're supposed to be laughing--but, if you were in my position, you'd find it no laughing matter. I'm to be married next week."
 
"That is a prospect calculated to turn the strongest brain; granted!"
 
"Look here, Jack, I'll throw something at you if you talk like that; I've come for sense, not idiocy. Under the circumstances Mr. Oldfield's continued absence--and silence--was pretty bad to bear; and now to be told he's dead----"
 
"Dead? you don't mean to say that Oldfield's dead!"
 
"So I was informed last night by two men, one named Nash, and the other Morgan. Nash introduced himself as Oldfield's solicitor, and Morgan said he was his sole executor. A more unclubable man than Morgan I never met; he's not even a good imitation of a gentleman; how Oldfield came to appoint him as his sole executor is beyond my comprehension."
 
"What can you expect from a pill-man? I should take anything as a matter of course from the proprietor of Peter Piper's Popular Pills."
 
"They're a sound, wholesome medicine."
 
"Of course; we won't flog a dead donkey. And when did Oldfield die? and what of? did you know that he was ill?"
 
"I hadn't the ghost of a notion. And the best--or rather the worst--of it is that Messrs. Nash and Morgan seem to take it for granted that I knew all about it; especially the man Morgan."
 
"Why should he do that? And what's the harm if he does?"
 
Clifford was drumming on the table with his finger-tips, nervously; as a rule he was one of the coolest and most collected of men; now his embarrassment was obvious.
 
"That's one of the charms of the position; showing that one man may know another for a long time, and yet know nothing at all about him. According to the two gentlemen Joseph Oldfield lived a double life, and his name wasn't Oldfield at all."
 
"There you are again, the pill-man! It at least looks as if he had the saving grace of being ashamed to have it known that he was connected with his own pills."
 
"I admit it does make it look as if he were ashamed, though I don't see why he should have been; since, as I say, they are a sound and wholesome medicine."
 
"No doubt; the elixir of life; cure all ills; see advertisements."
 
"There is no reason why a man should be more ashamed of being associated with an honest medicine than with the profession of the law, which is not all honesty."
 
"True, O king! Still, however, let's pass on. If his name wasn't Oldfield, what was it?"
 
"Can't you guess?"
 
"Can't I--would you mind saying that again; only let me warn you that if you've come here to ask riddles there'll be ructions."
 
"Don't be an ass, if you can help it! I saw the girl who's in the next room in his room, yesterday."
 
"You saw her? I don't believe it."
 
"At least I saw her likeness; it was on his writing-table. She seemed to be looking at me during the whole of a very unpleasant scene; it was odd how the feeling that she was looking at me affected me; the excellence of the likeness is proved by the fact that I recognized her as the original the moment I saw her."
 
"Then do you mean----"
 
"I mean that, according to Messrs. Nash and Morgan, Oldfield's real name was Lindsay, Donald Lindsay, of Cloverlea. What's Miss Lindsay doing here?"
 
It was Mr. Hooper's turn to look surprised. As was his custom, when at all moved, getting up from his chair, he began to wander about the room.
 
"Why--she's typing, very badly, some absolutely worthless rubbish, for the magnificent payment of two guineas a week, which I can't afford to pay her."
 
"That sounds involved. Do you mean that she acts as your typewriter?"
 
"No, sir; she's my jobbing secretary; though I don't know what that is; nor does she. And in that position she's earning two guineas a week; which is more than I am."
 
"What's the idea?"
 
"The idea is that she's a lady; and that she wanted to earn her daily bread, desperately badly. Mind, you're not to breathe a word of this to her, or she'll go away at once, and probably never forgive me into the bargain."
 
"It strikes me that you've been entertaining an angel unawares. She says she's the daughter of Donald Lindsay, of Cloverlea."
 
"What she says goes. That girl wouldn't tell a lie--well, she wouldn't."
 
"Then in that case she must be worth piles of money. I don't understand why she's here; unless---- Is it possible that she doesn't know of the connection between Lindsay and Oldfield?"
 
"Frank, there's a mystery about that girl; I've suspected it all along; now suspicion's growing to certainty. Let's ask her to come in, and we'll put her in the box. I'd give--more than I am ever likely to have, to be to her a bearer of good tidings."
 
"Jack! Is it like that?"
 
"You idiot! I've only known her about two minutes; besides, she'd never look at the likes of me; I feel it in the marrow of my bones. But that's no reason why, if you have good news for her, she shouldn't know them."
 
"One moment! The point on which I've come to consult you I haven't yet reached; and a very nasty one it is; all the same, my dear Jack, we must leave Miss Lindsay till we've discussed it. I'm accused of having committed forgery."
 
"Frank! you're jesting!"
 
"It would be a grim jest if I were; but I'm not. Yesterday Mr. Morgan charged me, point-blank, with having forged--and uttered--bills, for over forty thousand pounds; more, he seemed amazed because I did not at once confess my guilt and throw myself upon his mercy."
 
"The man's a lunatic!"
 
"Mr. Nash did not directly associate himself with Mr. Morgan's charges; on the other hand, he did not dissociate himself. His attitude puzzled me. I fancy that he had no doubt about my guilt until he met me, and that, afterwards, his judgment was in suspense."
 
"But what foundation had either of these men for such a monstrous accusation?"
 
"That's the difficulty; Morgan professes to believe he has a sound one."
 
"Whose name are you supposed to have forged?"
 
"Donald Lindsay's."
 
"But you never heard it till yesterday."
 
"That is so; but Morgan called me a liar, right out, when I said so; and appearances may be against me. Jack, I'm in an awkward position."
 
"I don't see why; you can bring Mr. Morgan to book, and there's an end of him."
 
"There's more in it than you suppose; it's not so simple. Let me explain; or at least try to. You've heard me speak of a man named Trevor, Harry Trevor?"
 
"I know! Sir Henry Trevor! He's a blackguard!"
 
"I'm afraid he's not all that he might be, but that has only begun to dawn upon me lately. At one time he and I were intimate. When I was last in Paris I met him one day on the Boulevard. Although, somehow, we'd drifted apart; our paths in life lay in different directions; still I was very glad to see him, and we chummed up at once. He was living in Paris; had an apartment on the Champs Elysée, at the top there, near the Arch. He knew everybody; took me about; I had a royal time. One night I dined with him in his rooms, he and I alone together. Now I'm reluctant to make a direct charge, because I've no proof to offer, but I wondered then, and I've wondered still more since, if he hadn't done something to his wine."
 
"How--done something?"
 
"You know I'm an abstemious man, I don't care for wine; as a rule I drink nothing at meals, not even water. But on an occasion like that it was different. I had one glass of champagne, one of those small tumblers; when the servant began to fill it up I stopped him; not that there was anything wrong with the champagne, I feel sure there wasn't. After dinner, with our fruit, we had some port; I wanted neithe............