e--quite rightly, in
my opinion--wish to guard against the slightest possibility of mistake."

"There is no certainty that Ronald is the son of Sir James Penreath,"
said Colwyn thoughtfully. "Printed descriptions of people are very
misleading."

"Exactly my contention," replied Sir Henry eagerly. "I told Galloway
that the best way to settle the point was to let the young lady see the
prisoner. The police are acting on the suggestion. Mr. Oakham is coming
down with Miss Willoughby and her aunt from London by the afternoon
train. They will go straight to Heathfield, where they will see Ronald
before his removal to Norwich gaol. Superintendent Galloway is driving
over from here in a taxicab to meet them at the station and escort them
to the lock-up, and I am going with him. It is a frightful ordeal for
two highly-strung ladies to have to undergo, and my professional skill
may be needed to help them through with it. I shall suggest that they
return here with me afterwards, and stay for the night at the hotel,
instead of returning to London immediately. The night's rest will serve
to recuperate their systems after the worry and excitement."

"No doubt," said Colwyn, who began to see how Sir Henry Durwood had
built up such a flourishing practice as a ladies' specialist.

Sir Henry, having imparted his information, promised to acquaint him
with the result of the afternoon's interview, and bustled out of the
breakfast room in response to the imperious signalling of his wife's
eye.

It was after dinner that evening, in the lounge, that Sir Henry again
approached Colwyn, smoking a cigar, which represented the amount of a
medical man's fee in certain London suburbs. But as Sir Henry counted
his fees in guineas, and not in half-crowns, he could afford to be
luxurious in his smoking. He took a seat beside the detective and,
turning upon him his professionally portentous "all is over" face,
remarked:

"There is no mistake. Ronald is Sir James Penreath's son."

"Miss Willoughby identified him, then?"

"It was a case of mutual identification. Mr. Penreath, to give him his
proper name, was brought under escort into the room where we were
seated. He started back at the sight of Miss Willoughby--I suppose he
had no idea whom he was going to see--and said, 'Why, Constance!' The
poor girl looked up at him and exclaimed, 'Oh, James, how could you?'
and burst into a flood of tears. It was a very painful scene."

"I have no doubt it