must tell you. It will be terrible for
you. It will drive you mad. But you must know! You must! you must!"
Her voice rose almost to a shriek as she spoke, and he feared lest any
warder listening at the door might hear what she should say.

"Speak low," he whispered, "or, better still, do not speak at all. No,
don't speak, mother. I know all there is any need to know!"

"But you must hear. Yes, yes, I won't speak aloud, but you must know.
I must tell you. Paul, Paul, I--I----"

"No, no, mother, be quiet!" His voice was low and hoarse. "I tell you
nothing matters. Everything will be all right. You needn't fear for
me, I'll be a match for them all!"

"But I must tell you, Paul, even although it may drive you mad. It'll
alter everything, everything! I've found out something. To-day,
to-day----" The tones of her voice had changed, and there was a mad
intensity which he could not understand. She had grown calmer, too,
and her body had become as rigid as a stone.

"Listen, Paul," she went on, "I've found your father!"

"Is that what you wanted to tell me?" And although he was excited
beyond words, he also realised a great relief.

"Yes, I've found your father."

"My father! Who is he? You cannot mean it!"

"Yes. Don't you know? Can't you guess?"

His mind was bewildered, the blow was too stunning. After all these
years of unavailing search for the truth, to come to him like this
almost unbalanced his mind.

"No, I can't guess," he said. "How did you do it, mother? How? Where
is he?"

"The judge, the judge," she said hoarsely. She stood back from him as
she spoke, and the dim light of the room fell upon her face. She
looked years older now than she had looked when they spent their last
evening together in their home in Brunford. Her face was marked with
deep lines. Her eyes were sunken. Her hair had become dull, and her
hands trembled as though she had the palsy.

"The judge, the judge!" she repeated. "He's your father, Paul."

"The judge! What judge? Great God, you don't mean that--that----"

"Yes, Judge Bolitho. That was not the name he gave to me. He said he
was called Douglas Graham. I expect it was only a ruse to deceive me.
I don't know how it would affect my marriage, Paul. You see, Scotch
marriage is so strange, and it may be that the change of name would
alter everything. And yet I don't see how it could. Do you, Paul?
But never mind. He married me! I told you