“All this is true.—­Eugene Mortlake.”

“Good,” said Mr. Bell.  “Now your future fate is in the hands of these young people.  Pierce Budd has forgiven you, though it has been a struggle to do so.  But I have one surprise left for you all,” said Mr. Bell, stepping to the door.  “Regina,” he called softly.

In reply, the dark-eyed girl, in a sheer dress of soft, clinging stuff, glided into the room.  She slipped straight to the side of the outcast Pierce Budd, and stood there, holding his hand.  Peggy looking at her in amazement, saw that the hard, defiant look had vanished from the girl’s face, and that its place had been taken by an expression of supreme happiness and peace.

“Tell them about it,” said Mr. Bell.

“No.  She has not yet recovered from the shock of the discovery,” said Pierce Budd softly.  “Let me do it.  When Mortlake ruined me, and I fled from my former surroundings,” he said, “I left behind me a baby girl.  Mrs. Mortlake, a good woman if ever there was one, took care of that child.  All this I have only just learned.  She grew up with the Mortlake’s, and when that man’s wife died he did the only good thing I’ve ever heard of him doing—­he took care of her and brought her up as his daughter.  To-day in the hut you saw me looking at her closely.  It was because I thought I recognized a bit of jewelry—­a tiny gold locket she wore.  It contained the picture of her mother, who died soon after her birth.  When I heard her name was Regina, and on the top of that heard you mention the name of Mortlake, I knew that fate, in its strange whirligig, had brought my daughter back to me.”

“To-night, with Mr. Bell, I sought her, and she has consented to forgive me for my years of neglect.  The rest of my life will be spent in atoning for the past.  That is all.”

His voice broke, and Regina—­a different Regina from the old defiant one, gazed up at him tenderly.

“So,” said Mortlake, “I’m left alone at last, eh?  Regina, haven’t you a word for me?  Won’t you forgive me for deceiving you about your father all these years?”

“Of course I forgive, freely and wholly,” said the girl, stepping toward him, “but it is hard to forget.”

Very tenderly, Mortlake raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.  Then he drew himself erect.

“What do you want to do with me?” he said defiantly.  “I’ve confessed everything.  Why don’t you call the police?”

“Because we want you to have a chance to be a better man,” said Mr. Bell.  “The past is over and done with.  The future lies before you.  You can make it what you will—­bad or good, we shall not interfere with you.”

Mortlake looked at them unsteadily.  Then his voice broke and he stepped quickly toward Budd.  The recluse of Lost Brig Island extended his lean palm and met the other’s outstretched hand half way.

“I bear no grudge, Mortlake,” he said.  “You will always be welcome at our home—­Regina’s and mine.”