Sir Patrick presented Anne.  “This is the lady, Mr. Moy.”

Mr. Moy bowed, and made a suggestion.  “To save needless formalities, Sir Patrick, shall we take the question of identity as established on both sides?”

Sir Patrick agreed with his learned friend.  Lad y Lundie opened and shut her fan in undisguised impatience.  The London solicitor was deeply interested.  Captain Newenden, taking out his handkerchief, and using it as a screen, yawned behind it to his heart’s content.  Sir Patrick resumed.

“You assert the prior marriage,” he said to his colleague.  “It rests with you to begin.”

Mr. Moy cast a preliminary look round him at the persons assembled.

“The object of our meeting here,” he said, “is, if I am not mistaken, of a twofold nature.  In the first place, it is thought desirable, by a person who has a special interest in the issue of this inquiry” (he glanced at the captain—­the captain suddenly became attentive), “to put my client’s assertion, relating to Mr. Brinkworth’s marriage, to the proof.  In the second place, we are all equally desirous—­whatever difference of opinion may otherwise exist—­to make this informal inquiry a means, if possible, of avoiding the painful publicity which would result from an appeal to a Court of Law.”

At those words the gathered venom in Lady Lundie planted its second sting—­under cover of a protest addressed to Mr. Moy.

“I beg to inform you, Sir, on behalf of my step-daughter,” she said, “that we have nothing to dread from the widest publicity.  We consent to be present at, what you call, ‘this informal inquiry,’ reserving our right to carry the matter beyond the four walls of this room.  I am not referring now to Mr. Brinkworth’s chance of clearing himself from an odious suspicion which rests upon him, and upon another Person present.  That is an after-matter.  The object immediately before us—­so far as a woman can pretend to understand it—­is to establish my step-daughter’s right to call Mr. Brinkworth to account in the character of his wife.  If the result, so far, fails to satisfy us in that particular, we shall not hesitate to appeal to a Court of Law.”  She leaned back in her chair, and opened her fan, and looked round her with the air of a woman who called society to witness that she had done her duty.

An expression of pain crossed Blanche’s face while her step-mother was speaking.  Lady Lundie took her hand for the second time.  Blanche resolutely and pointedly withdrew it—­Sir Patrick noticing the action with special interest.  Before Mr. Moy could say a word in answer, Arnold centred the general attention on himself by suddenly interfering in the proceedings.  Blanche looked at him.  A bright flash of color appeared on her face—­and left it again.  Sir Patrick noted the change of color—­and observed her more attentively than ever.  Arnold’s letter to his wife, with time to help it, had plainly shaken her ladyship’s influence over Blanche.