the courage as he was possessed by the desire, he had risen up
and slain; the man that now announced himself his father.

And thinking thus, he sat on in silent, resentful vexation. He
started to feel a hand upon his shoulder, and to hear the voice
of Galliard evidently addressing him, yet using a name that was
new to him.

"Jocelyn, my boy," the voice trembled. "You have thought, and
you have realized - is it not so? I too thought, and thought
brought me conviction that what that paper tells is true."

Vaguely then the boy remembered that Jocelyn was the name the
letter gave him. He rose abruptly, and brushed the caressing
hand from his shoulder. His voice was hard - possibly the
knowledge that he had gained told him that he had nothing to
fear from this man, and in that assurance his craven soul grew
brave and bold and arrogant.

"I have realized naught beyond the fact that I owe you nothing
but unhappiness and ruin. By a trick, by a low fraud, you
enlisted me into a service that has proved my undoing. Once a
cheat always a cheat. What credit in the face of that can I
give this paper?" he cried, talking wildly. "To me it is
incredible, nor do I wish to credit it, for though it were
true, what then? What then?" he repeated, raising his voice
into accents of defiance.

Grief and amazement were blended in Galliard's glance, and
also, maybe, some reproach.