s of dauntless service. I forgot my own distrust of
him, his coldness, his brutality. I remembered only those other and
greater things.

"Even were I in such a position," I said, "it would make no difference.
I am sure that Lady Angela is loyal. She has no idea--and it is not
worth while that she should have."

"You would have me marry her, then?" he asked slowly.

"There is only one thing," I said, taking my courage into my hands.

"And that?" he asked sharply.

"That," I answered, "lies between you and your conscience."

He rose to his feet.

"Wait here," he said, "and I will show you my justification."

CHAPTER XXXI

MY FATHER'S LETTER

I heard Ray's heavy footsteps ascending the stairs to his room. In a
few moments he returned, bearing in his hand a letter.

"Guy," he said thoughtfully, "I am a man who is slow to place trust in
any one. For that reason, and perhaps because ignorance was better for
you, I have told you little of the events of that night. Now my first
opinion of you has undergone some modifications. You are stronger than
I thought, you have shown faith in me too, or I should not be here
practically a guest under your roof to-night. Listen! The man whom you
found dead in the marshes was not your father!"

I was not surprised. Always I had doubted it.

"Who was he, then?" I asked calmly.

"When your father went mad at Gibraltar," Ray said, "he needed help.
This man, Clery by name, supplied it. When I knew them both he was your
father's valet. Since then he has been his confederate in many schemes.
Your father on many occasions manifested the remnants of a sense of
honour. This creature set himself deliberately and successfully to
corrupt it. He was a parasite, a nerveless, bloodless thing without a
single human attribute. He and that woman were alike responsible for
your father's ruined life."

"Once before," Ray continued, after a moment's pause, "I had told him
that if ever we should meet where his life would cost me nothing, I
would kill him as I would set my heel upon an adder--and he only smiled
as though I had paid him some delicate compliment. And that night, Guy,
a hundred yards from your cottage, he sidled up to me in that lonely
road, and bade me direct him to the abode of Mr. Guy Ducaine. A moment
after he recognized me."

A grim smile parted Ray's lips, but I could not repress a shudder.
Invariably at any reference to that awful night the old fear came back.

"He se