affair," continued the other. "Your mother's family are headlong,
impulsive, fiery, unstable, emotional. There was a last shameful
and degrading scene. I offered her a separation; but she was
unwisely persuaded to sue for divorce."

Colonel Arran bent his head and touched his long gray moustache
with bony fingers.

"The proceeding was farcical; the decree a fraud. I warned her;
but she snapped her fingers at me and married her cousin the next
day. . . . And then I did my duty by civilisation."

Still Berkley never stirred. The older man looked down at the
wine-soiled cloth, traced the outline of the crimson stain with
unsteady finger. Then, lifting his head:

"I had that infamous decree set aside," he said grimly. "It was a
matter of duty and of conscience, and I did it without
remorse. . . . They were on what they supposed to be a wedding trip.
But I had warned her." He shrugged his massive shoulders. "If they
were not over-particular they were probably happy. Then he broke
his neck hunting--before you were born."

"Was he my father?"

"I am taking the chance that he was not."

"You had reason to believe----"

"I thought so. But--your mother remained silent. And her answer