Romayne half raised himself from the chair.  A momentary anger glittered in his eyes, and faded out again, extinguished by the nobler emotions of grief and shame.  He remembered Winterfield’s introduction to Stella.

“Her husband!” he said, speaking again to himself.  “And she let me introduce him to her.  And she received him like a stranger.”  He paused, and thought of it.  “The proofs, if you please, sir,” he resumed, with sudden humility.  “I don’t want to hear any particulars.  It will be enough for me if I know beyond all doubt that I have been deceived and disgraced.”

Father Benwell unlocked his desk and placed two papers before Romayne.  He did his duty with a grave indifference to all minor considerations.  The time had not yet come for expressions of sympathy and regret.

“The first paper,” he said, “is a certified copy of the register of the marriage of Miss Eyrecourt to Mr. Winterfield, celebrated (as you will see) by the English chaplain at Brussels, and witnessed by three persons.  Look at the names.”

The bride’s mother was the first witness.  The two names t hat followed were the names of Lord and Lady Loring. “They, too, in the conspiracy to deceive me!” Romayne said, as he laid the paper back on the table.

“I obtained that piece of written evidence,” Father Benwell proceeded, “by the help of a reverend colleague of mine, residing at Brussels.  I will give you his name and address, if you wish to make further inquiries.”

“Quite needless.  What is this other paper?”

“This other paper is an extract from the short-hand writer’s notes (suppressed in the reports of the public journals) of proceedings in an English court of law, obtained at my request by my lawyer in London.”

“What have I to do with it?”

He put the question in a tone of passive endurance—­resigned to the severest moral martyrdom that could be inflicted on him.

“I will answer you in two words,” said Father Benwell.  “In justice to Miss Eyrecourt, I am bound to produce her excuse for marrying you.”

Romayne looked at him in stern amazement.

“Excuse!” he repeated.

“Yes—­excuse.  The proceedings to which I have alluded declare Miss Eyrecourt’s marriage to Mr. Winterfield to be null and void—­by the English law—­in consequence of his having been married at the time to another woman.  Try to follow me.  I will put it as briefly as possible.  In justice to yourself, and to your future career, you must understand this revolting case thoroughly, from beginning to end.”

With those prefatory words, he told the story of Winterfield’s first marriage; altering nothing; concealing nothing; doing the fullest justice to Winterfield’s innocence of all evil motive, from first to last.  When the plain truth served his purpose, as it most assuredly did in this case, the man has never yet been found who could match Father Benwell at stripping himself of every vestige of reserve, and exhibiting his naked heart to the moral admiration of mankind.