a
gravity which was in complete contrast with the light airiness of his
tea-table gossip, and Barrant felt that he was speaking with sincerity.

"Yes, I can understand that," he said with a thoughtful nod.

"I think that is what happened in my brother's case, when he felt called
upon to reveal, as he did yesterday, a shameful family secret which hurt
him in his strongest point--his family pride."

"Stop a minute," interrupted Barrant, in a surprised voice. "I really do
not follow you here. What is this shameful secret to which you refer?"

Austin Turold looked surprised in his turn. "It had to do with his
marriage and his daughter's legitimacy," he slowly replied. "Surely my
sister imparted this to the Penzance police inspector, when she besought
his assistance?"

"I know nothing about it," replied Barrant quickly and emphatically. "I
shall be glad if you will tell me."

"Certainly."

Austin Turold related the story of his brother's disclosure closure. Again
he spoke in careful grave words, and with a manner completely divested of
any trace of his habitual flippancy.

"It appears to me that this revelation must have had a very painful effect
on Robert's mind," he added. "You must remember that he was an abnormal
type. An ordinary man would not have made such a disclosure on the day of
the funeral of the woman who was supposed to be his wife. But all Robert's
acts hinged on his one great obsession. He allowed nothing to come between
him and his one ambition--not even his wife (let us call her so) and
child. But it would come home to him afterwards--I mean the normal point
of view--the way the world would regard such a disclosure--and I have no
doubt that his belated mental anguish and morbid thoughts impelled him to
take his life. Understand me, Mr. Barrant, I do not mean that he did this
through remorse, but through the blow to his pride. He couldn't face the
racket--the gossip, the notoriety and all the rest of it."

"But according to your story, your brother had nothing to blame himself
for," said Barrant. "You say that he was ignorant of this earlier marriage
until recently?"

"Public sentiment will not look at it that way. People will say he
sacrificed a dead woman and his daughter to his own selfish ends--threw
them over when he had attained his ambition. That's what came home to him,
in my opinion."

"I see." Barrant was silent for a while, turning this over in all its
bearings. "Yes. There may be so