Had he a pistol I believe he would have shot me dead.  His ground was cut from under him.  The man who destroyed his every hope stood before us all, and refuted his terrible charges.  For a minute he stood as if irresolute; then he turned to Miss Forrest and spoke as coolly as if nothing had happened.

“May I claim your pardon, your forgiveness?” he said.  “Believe me, lady, it was all because I loved you that I have acted as I have.  Say, then, now that all is against me, that you forgive me.”

She hesitated a minute before replying; then she said slowly, “It is difficult for me to speak to you without shuddering.  Never did I believe such villainy possible; but—­but I pray that God may forgive you, as I do.”

“Then I will leave you,” he said, with a terrible look at me.

“No,” I said; “you will not leave us so easily.  Know, man, that you are punishable by the law of England.”

“How?”

“You are guilty of many things that I need not enumerate here; some Kaffar has told me about, some I knew before.  So, instead of my lying in a felon’s cell, it will be you.”

Then we all received a great shock.  Miss Staggles arose from her chair and rushed towards me.

“No, no, Mr. Blake,” she cried; “no, not for my sake.  He’s my only son.  For my sake, spare him.”

“Your only son? Yours?” cried Miss Forrest’s aunt.

“Mine,” cried this gaunt old woman.  “Oh, I was married on the Continent when quite a girl, and I dared not tell of it, for my husband was a gambler and a villain; but he was handsome and fascinating, and so he won me.  Herod, this son of mine, was born just the day before his father was killed in a duel.  Oh, spare him for my sake!”

I need not enter into the further explanations she made, nor how she pleaded for mercy for him, for they were painful to all.  And did I spare him?  Yes; on condition that he left England, never to return again, besides stipulating for Kaffar’s safety.

He left the house soon after, and we all felt a sense of relief when he had gone, save Miss Staggles, or rather Mrs. Voltaire, who went up to her room weeping bitterly.

Need I relate what followed that night?  Need I tell how I had to recount my doings and journeyings over again and again, while Simon and Kaffar were asked to give such information as I was unable to give, and how one circumstance was explained by another until all was plain?  I will not tax my readers’ patience by so doing; this must be left to their own imagination.

After this, Mrs. Walters insisted that we must have refreshments, and bustled away to order it, while a servant conducted Simon and Kaffar to a room where food was to be obtained; and so I was left alone with the woman I loved.

“Well?” I said, when they were gone.

“Well?” she replied, looking shyly into my face.

“I have done your bidding,” I said, after a minute’s silence.  “I have freed you from that man.”