e it up, relinquish it," he said in the same low, clear tones.
"When my father"--his voice again shook for a moment, but he mastered
his emotion--"made the deed, he thought himself a rich man. If he were
alive to-day"--there was a pause, and the meeting hung on his
words--"he would entirely agree with what I am doing. I give up the
deed of gift, I relinquish it. My lawyers have made me the proper
document, and I now give it to your chairman. It is all I possess; if I
had more, I would give it to you. My father was an honourable man, if
he were here now--"

He placed the deed before Griffenberg, and sank into his seat.

There was a moment of intense silence, then a cheer arose, led by the
very man who had put the question.

Griffenberg sprang to his feet.

"I hope you are satisfied, gentlemen," he said, with as much emotion as
a city man can permit himself. "Lord Highcliffe has behaved like a
gentleman, like a nobleman. I can assure you that his sacrifice is a
real one. The deed of gift which he has surrendered is a perfectly
sound one, and could not have been touched. All honour to him for his
surrender, for his generosity."

Another cheer arose--again it was started by the very man who had
attacked poor Stafford, and before it had ceased to ring through the
crowded room, Stafford had made his way out.

Mr. Falconer caught him by the arm as he was going down the stairs.

"Do you know what you have done?" he demanded in his dry, harsh voice.
"You have made yourself a pauper."

Stafford stopped and looked at him with a dull, vacant gaze.

"A pauper!" repeated Falconer, huskily.

"I daresay," said Stafford, wearily.

"And you an earl!" said Falconer, his face a brick-dust red. "Do you
think they will have any pity? Not they. They'll take you at your word.
They'll have every penny! How do you mean to live? You, the Earl of
Highcliffe!"

Stafford passed his hand across his brow; and a smile, a grim smile,
curved his lips.

"I don't know," he said. "The money was theirs, not mine."

"Stuff and rubbish!" said Falconer. "You thought only of yourself, of
your father's good name. I need scarcely tell you that Maude..."

Stafford waited, his pale face set like a statue's.

--"That Maude--well, you don't expect her to consider the engagement
binding after--after this?" The blood rushed to Stafford's face.

"I understand," he said. "Miss Falconer is free. I resign all claim to
her."

At this moment Howard came