seems, as
he told me afterwards, that the lawyer was to receive a great sum--ten
thousand pounds--under the will of the dead lord for whom he had done
much during his lifetime. But if Ralph were proved to be the heir this
sum would have been his and not the lawyer's, for the money was part
of his father's inheritance; therefore it was worth just ten thousand
pounds to that lawyer to convince himself and the false lord that Ralph
was not the man, and therefore it was that I found him so easy to deal
with.

Now after his father was dead the lawyer tried to persuade the son to
take no notice of his dying words, and to let the matter rest where it
was, seeing that he had nothing to gain and much to lose. But this he
would not consent to, for, as I have said, he was honest, declaring that
he could not be easy in his mind till he knew the truth, and that if he
did not go to find it out himself he would send others to do so for him.
As the lawyer desired this least of anything, he gave way, and they set
out upon their journey--which in those days was a very great journey
indeed--arriving at last in safety at our stead in the Transkei; for,
whether he liked it or not, his companion--who now was called Lord
Glenthirsk--would not be turned aside from the search or suffer him to
prosecute it alone.

At length, when all the tale was told, the lawyer looked at me with his
sharp eyes and said, through the interpreter:

"Vrouw Botmar, you have heard the story, tell us what you know. Is the
young man who lives with you he whom we seek?"

Now I thought for a second, though that second seemed like a year. All
doubt had left me, there was no room for it. Ralph and no other was the
man, and on my answer might hang his future. But I had argued the thing
out before and made up my mind to lie, though, so far as I know, it is
the only lie I ever told, and I am not a woman who often changes her
mind. Therefore I lied.

"It is not he," I said, "though for his sake I might wish that it were,
and this I can prove to you."

Now, when I had told this great falsehood, prompted to it by my love for
the lad and my love for Suzanne, his affianced wife, my mind grew as it
were empty for a moment, and I remember that in the emptiness I seemed
to hear a sound of laughter echoing in the air somewhere above the roof
of the house. Very swiftly I recovered myself, and looking at the men
I saw that my words rejoiced them, except the interpreter indeed,