give him that news touching his son which I am sending him to
you to receive. Inform him, sir, that his son, Jocelyn
Marleigh ...

Hogan paused, and shot a furtive glance at Galliard. The
knight was leaning forward now, his eyes strained, his forehead
beaded with perspiration, and his breathing heavy.

"Read on," he begged hoarsely.

His son, Jocelyn Marleigh, is the bearer of this letter, the
man whom he has injured and who detests him, the youth with
whom he has, by a curious chance, been in much close
association, and whom he has known as Kenneth Stewart.

"God!" gasped Crispin. Then with sudden vigour, "Oh, 'tis a
lie," he cried, "a fresh invention of that lying brain to
torture me."

Hogan held up his hand.

"There is a little more," he said, and continued:

Should he doubt this, bid him look closely into the lad's face,
and ask him, after he has scrutinized it, what image it evokes.
Should he still doubt thereafter, thinking the likeness to
which he has been singularly blind to be no more than
accidental, bid them strip the lad's right foot. It bears a
mark that I think should convince him. For the rest, honoured
sir, I beg you to keep all information touching his parentage