to my letters was to have you christened under the name you bear
to-day, Philip Ormond Berkley. And then, to force matters, I made
her status clear to her. Maybe--I don't know--but my punishment of
her may have driven her to a hatred of me--a desperation that
accepted everything--even _you_!"

Berkley lifted a countenance from which every vestige of colour had
fled.

"Why did you tell me this?"

"Because I believe that there is every chance--that you may be
legally entitled to my name. Since I have known who you are, I--I
_have_ had you watched. I have hesitated--a long while. My
brokers have watched you for a year, now; my attorneys for much
longer. To-day you stand in need of me, if ever you have stood in
need of anybody. I take the chance that you have that claim on me;
I offer to receive you, provide for you. That is all, Berkley.
Now you know everything."

"Who else--knows?"

"Knows what?"

"Knows what you did to my mother?"

"Some people among the families immediately concerned," replied
Colonel Arran coolly.

"Who are they?"