an myself"--declared Major
Bingo--"and a better never stepped in leather. A brother-officer of the
Chiefs, too, and a rippin' good fellow!--Dicky Mildare, of the Grey
Hussars."

"Mildare!" repeated Saxham.

"You understand, Saxham, the name did it. My wife had seen the present
Mrs. Saxham at Gueldersdorp, and, not knowin' that the surname of Mildare
had been taken by her at the wish of her adopted mother, supposed--got the
maggot into her head that the Mother-Superior's ward might possibly be
a--a daughter of the man the seal-ring had belonged to, knowing--Lord!
what a mull I'm making of it!--that Mildare had at one time been engaged
to marry that"--the Major boggled horribly--"that uncommonly brave and
noble lady, and had, in fact, thrown her over, and made a bolt of it with
the wife of his Regimental C.O., Colonel Sir George Hawting."

The faint stain of colour that had showed through Saxham's dead-white skin
faded. He waited with strained attention for what was coming.

"South Africa Lady Lucy and Mildare bolted to," went on Bingo, "and now
you know the kind of mare's-nest her ladyship had scratched up. And,"
declared Bingo, "rather than have had to spin this yarn. I'd have faced a
Court-Martial of Inquiry respectin' my conduct in the Field. For my wife
has a kind heart and a keen sense of honour, and rather than bring harm
upon Miss Mildare that was, or anyone connected with her, she'd have stood
up to be shot! By G----!" trumpeted Bingo, "I know she would!"

Saxham's face was blue-white now, and looked oddly shrunken. His voice
came in a rasping croak from his ashen lips as he said:

"Lady Hannah mentioned my wife to this man, thinking that she might prove
to be the daughter of the owner of the ring. What could possibly lead her
to infer such a relationship?"

"You must understand that the blackguard had given my wife details of
Mildare's death at a farm owned by a friend of his in Natal, and that
Hannah--that my wife knew poor little Lucy Hawting had had a child by
Mildare," Major Bingo spluttered. "That was why she asked Van Busch
outright whether the girl with the nuns at Gueldersdorp was--could be--the
same child, grown up? By the Living Tinker!--I never was in such a lather
in my life! The better the light I try to put the thing in, the dirtier it
looks. And I'm not half through yet, that's the worst of it!"

He mopped and mopped, and took several violent turns about the room, and
subsided in a chair a