innocent. Tell me how it
happened. Was it when we left London? I seem to remember the trouble
there was then, though you never explained. We had a different name
then, hadn't we?"

"You were too young at the time to understand, and it wasn't a subject I
wished to revive. Briefly, a big sum, for which I was responsible,
disappeared. The head of the firm believed me guilty, but for the sake
of old associations he would not prosecute; he simply told me to go. I
consulted my lawyer, and, if there had been the slightest chance of
clearing myself, I'd have fought the matter to a finish, but he told me
my case hadn't a leg to stand on, and that, if I were foolish enough to
bring it into court, I should certainly be convicted of embezzlement,
and sent to penal servitude; that it was only the clemency of my chief's
attitude that saved me, and that he advised me to go abroad while I
could. So I left England in a hurry, a disgraced man, disowned by his
family and his friends. I changed my name to Carson, and through the
kindness of a business acquaintance I was offered a clerkship in an
Italian counting-house in Naples, which post I have kept ever since. How
I should otherwise have made a living God only knows! It's always my
haunting fear that some one in Naples will recognize me and tell them at
the office who I am. If that old story leaks out I may once more be
ruined."

"But who did it, Father?" asked Lorna. "Had you no clew at all?"

"Not enough to convict, only a strong suspicion, so strong that it is
practically a certainty. The man who ruined me was once my friend. Now
for five long years, he has been my bitterest enemy. We were both heads
of departments in the firm of Burgess and Co. Probably he's a partner
now, as I ought to have been. I've never heard news of him since I left
London, but to-day I saw him in the Corso. I saw him plainly without any
possibility of mistake. What is he doing in Naples? Has he come here to
ruin me again?"

"No, no, Dad, surely not! Perhaps he doesn't know you're in Italy.
Probably he's only taking a holiday and will go back to England soon,"
faltered Lorna, suddenly realizing that in her father's excited nervous
condition she ought to offer consolation and soothe him instead of
adding to his agitation. "It's very unlikely that he would find you out.
Dad, don't grieve so, _please_!"

She went near to her father's chair and laid a timid hand on his
shoulder. An immense gush of pity for