n in a
month. He never returned. He fought in a duel and was killed. But the
night before the duel he wrote a letter saying what he had done and put
it in a secret cupboard behind a picture of a lady who was born an
Arden, at Talbot Court. And there that letter is to this day."

"I hope I shan't forget it all," said Edred.

"None ever forgets what I tell them," said the Mouldiestwarp. "Finding
that the man did not return, the Deptford woman brought up the child as
her own. He grew up, was taught a trade and married a working girl. The
name of Arden changed itself, as names do, to Harding. Their child was
the father of Richard whom you know. And he is Lord Arden."

"Yes," said Edred submissively.

"You will never tell your father this," the low, beautiful voice went
on; "you must not even tell your sister till you have rescued Dickie and
made the sacrifice. This is the one supreme chance of all your life.
Every soul has one such chance, a chance to be perfectly unselfish,
absolutely noble and true. You can take this chance. But you must take
it alone. No one can help you. No one can advise you. And you must keep
the nobler thought in your own heart till it is a noble deed. Then,
humbly and thankfully in that you have been permitted to do so fine and
brave a thing and to draw near to the immortals of all ages who have
such deeds to do and have done them, you may tell the truth to the one
who loves you best, your sister Elfrida."

"But isn't Elfrida to have a chance to be noble too?" Edred asked.

"She will have a thousand chances to be good and noble. And she will
take them all. But she will never know that she has done it," said the
Mouldiestwarp gravely. "Now--are you ready to do what is to be done?"

"It seems very unkind to daddy," said Edred, "stopping his being Lord
Arden and everything."

"To do right often seems unkind to one or another," said the
Mouldiestwarp, "but think. How long would your father wish to keep his
house and his castle if he knew that they belonged to some one else?"

"I see," said Edred, still doubtfully. "No, of course he wouldn't. Well,
what am I to do?"

"When Dickie's father died, a Deptford woman related to Dickie's mother
kept the child. She was not kind to him. And he left her. Later she met
a man who had been a burglar. He had entered Talbot Court, opened a
panel, and found that old letter that told of Dickie's birth. He and she
have kidnapped Dickie, hoping to get him to sig