le. She was applauded to the
echo as 'Mrs. Brooke.'"

"Oh, you must never tell them," said Lady Alice, hastily. "I do not want
to be anything else, please--now."

"I wish they had let one know beforehand," said Maurice, "they kept it a
dead secret--even from me."

"All the greater surprise for us," said Mr. Brooke. Then he looked at
Maurice for a moment, and smiled. But it was long before they mentioned
to each other what both had thought and felt in that heart-breaking
minute of suspense when they believed that Caspar was deserted in the
hour of need.

"Well," said Caspar Brooke, at length, "whatever may happen now"--and he
made a pause which was fraught with graver meaning than he would have
cared to put into words--"I can feel at any rate that 'I have had my
say.' And you, Alice--well, my dear, you will always have those silver
spoons to look at! So we have not done badly after all."

Like Sir Thomas More, he would have joked when going to the scaffold;
but jokes under such circumstances have rather a ghastly sound in the
ears of his family.

CHAPTER XL.

CAIN.

Maurice Kenyon took an early opportunity of asking Lady Alice whether
she would recognize the man Smith if she saw him again.

"I think so. Why do you ask? You know I talked to him a good deal."

"I have been very blind," said Maurice seriously. "I never thought until
to-day of associating him in my mind with someone else--someone whom I
have seen twice during the past week. May I speak freely to you? You
know I am as anxious as anyone can possibly be that this mystery should
be cleared up. I wish to speak of Francis Trent, the brother of Oliver
Trent, and the husband of the woman who makes this accusation against
Mr. Brooke."

Lady Alice recoiled. "You cannot mean that John Smith had anything to do
with him?"

"I have a strong belief that John Smith and Francis Trent are one and
the same. To my shame be it spoken, I did not recognize him either on
Wednesday or Friday when I paid him a visit. Ethel wished me to go when
she heard that he was ill." He said this in a deprecating tone.

"I quite understand. You saw this man--Francis Trent--then?"

"Yes, and could not imagine where I had seen him before. I think it is
the man I used to see in hospital. Lady Alice--if you saw him
yourself----"

"I, Mr. Kenyon? What! see the man and woman who accuse my husband of
murder?"--There was genuine horror in her tone. "How could I speak to
them?