"Exactly. I don't believe they are drowned at all," said Miss Lindsay,
suddenly. "I believe you have had all this terrible anguish for nothing.
It's too cruel."

Mr. Barrett stared at her in anxious amazement.

"I see it all now," continued the girl. "Their Aunt Charlotte was
devoted to them. She always had the fear that some day you would return
and claim them, and to prevent that she invented the story of their
death."

"Charlotte is the most truthful woman that ever breathed," said the
distressed Mr. Barrett.

Miss Lindsay shook her head. "You are like all other honourable,
truthful people," she said, looking at him gravely. "You can't imagine
anybody else telling a falsehood. I don't believe you could tell one if
you tried."

Mr. Barrett gazed about him with the despairing look of a drowning
mariner.

"I'm certain I'm right," continued the girl. "I can see Charlotte
exulting in her wickedness. Why!"

"What's the matter?" inquired Mr. Barrett, greatly worried.

"I've just thought of it," said Miss Lindsay. "She's told you that your
children are drowned, and she has probably told them you are dead. A
woman like that would stick at nothing to gain her ends."