unate family history was known to the whole
Board."

"Then I am less indebted to Colonel Ray, sir, than I imagined," I
answered. "I am very glad, however, that it is known. Perhaps Lord
Cheisford may not consider my resignation necessary?"

"The circumstances being--?"

"I have seen and spoken with my father in London," I answered.

The Duke was silent.

"I presume," he said, after a short pause, "that you must yourself
realize the indiscretion of this."

"I went at once to Colonel Ray and offered my resignation," I answered.

The Duke nodded.

"Your father," he said slowly, "is in London?" "Yes, sir."

"Alone?"

I hesitated. Yet perhaps the Duke had a right to know the truth.

"He is with the lady who occupied Braster Grange, sir, until last week,"
I answered. "She passed under the name of Mrs. Smith-Lessing, but I
believe that she is in reality my stepmother."

The Duke stood a few paces from me, looking out of the window. He held
his cigarette between his fingers, and he stood sideways to me. Nothing
about his attitude or face was unusual. Yet I felt myself watching him
curiously. There was something about his manner which seemed to me to
suggest some powerful emotion only kept in check by the exercise of a
strong will.

"This is the person, I believe," he said in a slow measured tone, "with
whom my son, Lord Blenavon, was said to have been intimate?"

"Lord Blenavon was certainly a constant visitor at Braster Grange," I
answered.

"You know her address in London?" the Duke asked.

"Yes."

He turned and faced me. He was certainly paler than he had been a few
minutes ago.

"I should be glad," he said, "if you would arrange for me to have an
interview with her."

"An interview with Mrs. Smith-Lessing!" I repeated incredulously.

The Duke inclined his head.

"There are a few questions," he said, "which I wish to ask her."

"I can give you her address," I said.

"I wish you to see her and arrange for the interview personally," the.
Duke answered.

"You will see that my visiting her does not prejudice me further with
the Board, sir?" I ventured to say. "You can take that for granted,"
the Duke said. So that afternoon I called at No. 29, Bloomsbury
Street, and in a shabby back room of a gloomy, smoke-begrimed
lodging-house I found my father and Mrs. Smith-Lessing. He was lying
upon a horsehair sofa, apparently dozing. She was gazing negligently
out of the window, and drumming upon the windo