to his heirs.’  Consider that, ma’am!  The child of the daughter whom Mr. Forley hates, whose husband has been snatched away from his vengeance by death, takes his whole property in defiance of him; and the child of the daughter whom he loves, is left a pensioner on her low-born boy-cousin for life!  There was good—­too good reason—­why that child of Mrs. Kirkland’s should be registered stillborn.  And if, as I believe, the register is founded on a false certificate, there is better, still better reason, why the existence of the child should be hidden, and all trace of his parentage blotted out, in the garret of that empty house.”

He stopped, and pointed for the second time to the dim, dust-covered garret-windows opposite.  As he did so, I was startled—­a very slight matter sufficed to frighten me now—­by a knock at the door of the room in which we were sitting.

My maid came in, with a letter in her hand.  I took it from her.  The mourning card, which was all the envelope enclosed, dropped from my hands.

George Forley was no more.  He had departed this life three days since, on the evening of Friday.

“Did our last chance of discovering the truth,” I asked, “rest with him?  Has it died with his death?”

“Courage, ma’am!  I think not.  Our chance rests on our power to make Barsham and his mother confess; and Mr. Forley’s death, by leaving them helpless, seems to put that power into our hands.  With your permission, I will not wait till dusk to-day, as I at first intended, but will make sure of those two people at once.  With a policeman in plain clothes to watch the house, in case they try to leave it; with this card to vouch for the fact of Mr. Forley’s death; and with a bold acknowledgment on my part of having got possession of their secret, and of being ready to use it against them in case of need, I think there is little doubt of bringing Barsham and his mother to terms.  In case I find it impossible to get back here before dusk, please to sit near the window, ma’am, and watch the house, a little before they light the street-lamps.  If you see the front-door open and close again, will you be good enough to put on your bonnet, and come across to me immediately?  Mr. Forley’s death may, or may not, prevent his messenger from coming as arranged.  But, if the person does come, it is of importance that you, as a relative of Mr. Forley’s should be present to see him, and to have that proper influence over him which I cannot pretend to exercise.”

The only words I could say to Trottle as he opened the door and left me, were words charging him to take care that no harm happened to the poor forlorn little boy.