fortable about the Blakes.'

'Nothing discreditable, I hope?' returned the Doctor quickly.

'I am afraid I must answer "Yes" to that question; but, at least, I can
assure you that there is nothing against Blake.'

Then Dr. Ross looked relieved.

'Whatever blame there is attaches solely to the mother.'

'Humph! With all her good looks, I never quite liked the woman,'
ejaculated Dr. Ross _sotto voce_. Nevertheless, he had always been
extremely pleasant with her; but perhaps a man finds it difficult to be
otherwise with a pretty woman.

'I have unfortunately found out--but perhaps I ought to say fortunately
for us--that Mrs. Blake is not a widow: her husband is living.'

'Good heavens!'

'Neither is her name Blake; she changed it at the time she discarded her
husband. I am afraid you must prepare yourself for a shock, Dr. Ross,
for the whole thing is distinctly reprehensible.'

'And you mean to tell me,' returned the Doctor, with an anxious
blackness gathering on his brow, 'that Cyril--that my future son-in-law
is cognisant of this fact?'

'No, no!' replied Michael eagerly; 'you are doing him injustice. Blake
is as ignorant of the thing as you are yourself; he has no more to do
with it than you or I. Did I not tell you that the sole blame rests with
his mother?'

Then the Doctor, in spite of his Christianity, pronounced a malediction
against the Blake womankind.

'She is just the sort to get into mischief,' he continued; 'there is a
dangerous look in her eyes. Go on, Michael; don't keep me in suspense.
There is something disgraceful behind all this. What reason has any
woman to allege for giving up her husband?'

'Her excuse is that he brought shame and dishonour on her and on his
children, and that she would have nothing more to do with him. He had
committed a forgery, and had been condemned to penal servitude for seven
years.'

Then the Doctor said 'Good heavens!' again. At certain moments of
existence it is not possible to be original--when the roof is falling on
one's head, for example, or a deadly avalanche is threatening. But
Michael needed no answer; he only wished to finish his story as quickly
as possible.

'You know Audrey's friend, Thomas O'Brien?'

'To be sure I do. He is a retired corn-chandler. I went to his shop
once, in Peterborough.'

'And you have probably heard of his brother Mat?'

Then Dr. Ross gazed at him with a face of despair. His misfortunes were
accumulating; he had a sens