AN EXPLANATION.

On hearing his father's exclamation Claude turned round with a look of supreme astonishment. He could not understand the meaning of that sudden exclamation.

"Father, you do not understand. This is your wife—my mother."

"Is it, indeed?" sneered Captain Larcher, who had recovered from his momentary emotion. "Nothing of the sort, sir. This woman is Mona Bantry, who was my wife's maid."

"Are you sure?" cried Tait, who was beginning to be bewildered by these successive revelations.

"Sure, sir! as sure as I am of my own innocence. As sure as I am George Larcher, this is the sister of Denis Bantry, who——"

"Denis!"

The interruption came from Mrs. Bezel. She had sat dumfounded at the unexpected appearance of the man whom she had thought dead, and she had said nothing while assertion and denial were going on, but the mention of her brother's name stirred her dormant faculties, and she sat up looking wildly around.

"Denis!" she cried, in a terrified tone. "Is Denis here?"

"Denis is down at Thorston," said Captain Larcher gruffly, "as you no doubt knew well enough."

"I swear I did not. Francis told me Denis was in America."

"Francis?" exclaimed Claude, forgetting to whom the name belonged.

"Francis Hilliston."

"Ah!" said Captain Larcher, with a disdainful look round. "I might have guessed as much. Off with the dead love, on with the living. You have amended the proverb."

"I did not know Mark was dead, sir," exclaimed Mrs. Bezel passionately. "Francis said that he had gone to America with Denis. I thought he had done so to escape the consequences of his crime, but——"

"Of his crime!" cried Claude. "He was the victim, poor soul, not the murderer. It was Jeringham who was killed, not my father."

"Your father?" said Mrs. Bezel, looking steadily at Captain Larcher. "Yes; it is my old master. So you are alive and he is dead. Why did you kill him, sir?"

"I did not kill him," replied the captain quietly, "and as a counter question, may I ask why you passed yourself off to Claude as my wife?"

Mrs. Bezel burst into a wild laugh, and clapped her hands together. Then she covered her face and commenced to weep, but in a few moments the fit of hysteria passed away, and she became cool and composed. Thrown off her balance for the time being, she had now gathered her wits together, and was ready to fight. Her folly and impulse had brought about this catastrophe, and it was her duty to set it right again—if she could. But the upshot of the matter was extremely doubtful.

On his part, Captain Larcher was relieved to find that Mrs. Bezel proved to be Mona Bantry instead of his wife. Ever since the communication made by Claude, he had suffered agonies at the thought that his wife had been living all these years under the protection of his false friend. Now that fear was set at rest once and forever. Julia Larcher had really died, as Hilliston had asserted, and the woman in Clarence Cottage, who had taken her name, was the maid in place of the mistress. Out of all the trouble Larcher extracted this morsel of comfort, his honor was unstained.

Meanwhile the three visitors sat waiting to hear what Mrs. Bezel had to say. She saw that they expected a confession, and resolved to disappoint them. Leaning backward among her cushions, she closed her eyes, and played a waiting game. It proved successful, for in two minutes or thereabouts Captain Larcher broke out. His temper was none of the best, and recent events had not tended to improve it."

"Well, madam," he said sharply, rapping his stick on the ground, "I am waiting to hear what you have to say."

"I have nothing to say," said Mrs. Bezel quietly.

"Oh, yes, you have," began Tait. "As you set the ball——"

But at this moment he was interrupted by Larcher.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Tait, but I will question this woman myself. Pray do not speak, nor you, Claude, till I have done."

Both young men bowed their heads and acquiesced in silence. After all, the captain was the proper person to examine Mona Bantry. He knew more of the case than anyone else, and conversant as he was with the events of that fatal night, he would know whether she spoke truly or falsely. Mrs. Bezel looked uneasy on hearing his resolution, but only compressed her lips tighter as though resolved to let nothing escape her. But he was a match for her in obstinacy.

"Now then," said Larcher, turning to her, "relate your history from the moment you left me alone with my wife twenty-five years ago at The Laurels."

"It would not help you if I did."

"I'm not so sure of that. But I understand. You are afraid of incriminating yourself."

"I!" exclaimed Mrs. Bezel indignantly. "What have I to do with the matter. I know nothing of it. I left the house then and there, and only heard of the tragedy while I was concealed at Horriston, more than a week afterward."

"Why did you state to my son that Mrs. Larcher threatened me with the dagger."

"So she did," said Mrs. Bezel coolly. "I saw her hand raised, I saw the dagger in it."

"You saw the sheath of the dagger, you mean," retorted Larcher; "it fell on the floor and was found there next day. But the weapon with which the crime was committed was lost by my wife at the ball."

"It may have been," said the woman indifferently. "I don't know anything about it."

"Did not Jeringham show it to you when you joined him in the garden?"

"I tell you I did not see him on that night. When you found out my secret, I was afraid that you and the mistress would betray it to my brother Denis, so I left the room and fled. I thought Jeringham would join me at Horriston next day, but then I heard of your supposed death, and that he had fled. Until this hour I did not know that it was the other way round."

"Did not Hilliston tell you? He knew."

"No, Captain Larcher, he did not," said Mrs. Bezel emphatically. "He said that Jeringham had gone to America with my brother."

"Where did you go after leaving Horriston?"

"I came to London, and remained there till my baby was born."

"And then?"

"I found that my money had come to an end, and called at Mr. Hilliston's office to ask him to help me."

"What right had you to expect help from him."

"I had no right, but that I knew he would assist me because of his love."

"His love!" exclaimed Larcher sharply. "Did Hilliston love you?"

"Yes; I refused to have anything to do with him on account of Jeringham. But he did love me. Oh, yes, I know you thought he was in love with your wife, but such was not the case. He loved me, and me only."

Larcher drew a long breath, and looked puzzled. He was relieved to find that he had not been mistaken in Hilliston, after all, yet the assertion of Mrs. Bezel only seemed to further complicate the case. If Hilliston did not love Mrs. Larcher, what possible motive could he have to kill Jeringham? The looks of Claude and Tait reflected his perplexity; but dismissing this special point for the moment, he pursued his examination.

"How did Hilliston receive you?"

Mrs. Bezel looked around with a bitter smile. Her meaning was clear from the contemptuous expression on her face.

"Can you not guess from what you see here?" she said quietly. "Francis Hilliston bought me. He loved me well enough, but not sufficiently to marry me. He did not ruin me, for I was already ruined. I accepted his offer to come here and be his mistress. What else could I do? I was alone in London. I was friendless. I believed that my lover and my brother had fled to America. I could not return to Horriston lest I might be involved in the tragedy at The Laurels. I did what any other woman would have done, and made the best of a bad business. I accepted the love and protection of Francis Hilliston. The protection still continues, as you see—the love, that is dead and done with."

"I see you are thinking of Louisa Sinclair," interposed Tait quietly.

"What do you know of Louisa Sinclair?" asked Mrs. Bezel, with a violent start.

"Everything, thanks to you," answered Tait. "Your letter put the clew into my head. I went to Horriston; I saw a portrait of Miss Sinclair. I know that she went to America after the tragedy, and returned as Mrs. Derrick, rich and beautiful, to marry Hilliston."

"Ah, you know that much. Yes! Louisa Sinclair is my rival! Ten years ago she came back to England and wanted Francis to marry her. I fell ill—I became paralyzed. He forgot me, he forgot my love, and she became his wife. Oh, how I hate her! I hate him. It was on that account that I wrote to you, Claude, to reveal all."

"You then acted out of revenge!"

"Yes, I did!" said Mrs. Bezel sullenly. "Look at me, a wreck; look at her, his wife, rich and handsome and healthy."

"Not healthy, poor soul," said Claude. "She is ill with the smallpox."

"With the smallpox," echoed Mrs. Bezel joyfully. "I'm glad of it! I'm glad of it! Her beauty will depart, as mine has done. Then Francis may come back to me."

"You love him still?" asked Captain Larcher, in wonderment.

"Too well to ruin him. You want me to accuse him of the crime, but I tell you he is innocent; he knows nothing."

"He was in the garden alone on that night. None other but he——"

"He was not alone," cried Mrs. Bezel sharply. "Louisa Sinclair was with him. Yes, she followed him from the ball because she was jealous of me. In my flight I passed her at the gate. She had a cloak over her dress, but I saw that it was the costume of Mary, Queen of Scots."

"And you knew her by that?"

"Partly. My mistress told me that Miss Sinclair had a similar costume to her own, for she was very angry about it. But I saw her face as I fled. She may know who killed Jeringham. I do not. Hilliston does not. Now, I have told you all. Go away and leave me. I speak no more."

"First tell us why you declared yourself to be my mother?" said Claude sharply.

"For safety. I regretted that I had told you; that I had forced Hilliston into defending himself. I was afraid lest you should learn too much and denounce me as the criminal. So long as you thought I was your mother you would not dare to do so, and therefore I told you I was Mrs. Larcher."

"One last word," said Captain Larcher, rising to his feet. "Your child. What became of it?"

"Hilliston took it away," said Mrs. Bezel, in a melancholy tone. "I was ill at the time and he overcame my scruples. I don't know where my child is. Often and often have I wanted to see her again, but Francis has always refused. Oh, where can she be?"

"I can tell you."

"You?" cried Mrs. Bezel, starting up in amazement.

"Yes. Your daughter Jenny was brought by Hilliston to me. I adopted her as my child, and she is now at Thorston with her Uncle Denis—your brother."

Mrs. Bezel tried to speak, but could not. With a wild glance around she heaved a long sigh and fainted. The joy of hearing that her child was alive proved too much for her enfeebled frame.