d Mr. Caryll, and placed another document
before the secretary. It was an extract from the register of St. Etienne
of Maligny, relating to his mother's death.

"Do you know, sir, in what year this lady went through a ceremony of
marriage with my father--the late Lord Ostermore? It was in 1690, I
think, as the lady will no doubt confirm."

"To what purpose, this?" quoth Mr. Templeton.

"The purpose will be presently apparent. Observe that date," said Mr.
Caryll, and he pointed to the document in Mr. Templeton's hand.

Mr. Templeton read the date aloud--"1692"--and then the name of the
deceased--"Antoinette de Beaulieu de Maligny. What of it?" he demanded.

"You will understand that when I show you the paper I took from this
desk, the paper that I obtained as a consequence of my violence to Mr.
Green. I think you will consider, sir, that if ever the end justified
the means, it did so in this case. Here was something very different
from the paltry matter of treason that is alleged against me."

And he passed the secretary a third paper.

Over Mr. Templeton's shoulder, Rotherby and his mother, who--drawn by
the overpowering excitement that was mastering them--had approached
in silence, were examining the document with wide-open, startled eyes,
fearing by very instinct, without yet apprehending the true nature of
the revelation that was to come.

"God!" shrieked her ladyship, who took in the meaning of this thing
before Rotherby had begun to suspect it. "'Tis a forgery!"

"That were idle, when the original entry in the register is to be seen
in, the Church of St. Antoine, madam," answered Mr. Caryll. "I rescued
that document, together with some letters which my mother wrote my
father when first he returned to England--and which are superfluous
now--from a secret drawer in that desk, an hour ago."

"But what is it?" inquired Rotherby huskily. "What is it?"

"It is the certificate of the marriage of my father, the late Lord
Ostermore, and my mother, Antoinette de Maligny, at the Church of St.
Antoine in Paris, in the year 1689." He turned to Mr. Templeton. "You
apprehend the matter, sir?" he demanded, and recapitulated. "In 1689
they were married; in 1692 she died; yet in 1690 his lordship went
through a form of marriage with Mistress Sylvia Etheridge, there."

Mr. Templeton nodded very gravely, his eyes upon the document before
him, that they might avoid meeting at that moment the eyes of the woman
whom the world