“So you are a book-agent, then?  And you want to sell me some books, I suppose?  Is that your business here to-night?”

The man waved his hand haughtily, and flicked the ashes from his cigarette into the fire.

“No, madame, it is not.  Business is somewhat dull these days, I must confess.  People are not as anxious as formerly for pure literature.  There are too many counter attractions.  This being so, I find it is becoming more difficult to stand between my family and poverty.  Therefore, I am here to-night.”

“So you want me to give you some money; is that it?”

“Ah, now I see you understand,” and the man’s face beamed.  “But remember, I come not as a beggar, neither as a suppliant, but merely to receive payment for a favor.”

“Payment for a favor!” the woman exclaimed.  “What do you mean?  I owe you nothing.  I never saw you before.  What favor?”

“The favor of silence.  I know what you were thinking about to-night as you sat here.  Your thoughts were in the past, to another night such as this.  You were in a private hospital, and——­”

He was interrupted by a startled cry from the woman.  She was sitting bolt upright, her hands gripping hard the arms of the chair, and her face ghastly white.

“W-what do you know?” she gasped.

“Calm yourself, madame.  Although I know all, you have no need to fear.”

For a few seconds the woman stared at the man before her.  Then she gave an hysterical laugh and sank back in her chair.  What did this stranger know? she wondered.  Perhaps nothing, and she had made a fool of herself by showing her agitation.

“My nerves are somewhat shaken to-night,” she confessed.  “I have not been well of late, so your sudden appearance and strange words have rather unsettled me.  What do you mean by referring to another night such as this, and to a private hospital?  What have they to do with me?”

“A great deal, I should say, madame.  If you doubt my knowledge, it is only necessary to mention the name of Hettie Rawlins, now my wife, Mrs. Gabriel Grimsby.”

“Hettie Rawlins!” the woman’s face showed her perplexity.

“Yes, Hettie Rawlins, the girl who exchanged the babies.  Don’t you remember her?”

But the woman did not reply.  She sat staring at the man before her.

“There is no doubt now about my knowledge is there?” the stranger asked with a smile.

“Heavens, no!” the unhappy woman groaned.  “And to think that after all these years I should be thus confronted in my own house, and by a complete stranger.  And so your wife told you all?”

“Everything, although she kept the secret for a long time.  She told me how you bribed her to exchange your little baby boy for a girl which was born in the hospital on the same day, and the amount you gave the baby’s mother for making the exchange.”

“Stop, stop,” the woman pleaded.  “You will kill me.”