"You infernal traitor!" hissed James Bansemer. "You claim to be
Graydon's friend, and yet you are the one who has led the plot to
ruin me."

"What does it all mean?" cried Graydon, holding; the shaking Cable
tightly.

There was a moment of intense silence, except for thel heavy
breathing of the men. Graydon was staring wide-eyed at his father.
He saw the cruel, sardonic smile spread over his face and shuddered.

"I've simply come to take you out of the clutches of these people.
I've waited to see if that scheming woman, up there would tell
you of her own accord. She hasn't told you; so I will. You cannot
marry that girl, for your haughty Jane Cable is a child of shame,
picked up on a doorstep, cast off by the woman who conceived her!"

The crash had come. The heartless accuser stood like a tragic
player in the centre of his stage, pouring out his poison without
a touch of pity for the stricken girl who, after the first thrill
of indignation and horror, had shrunk back into her mother's arms,
bewildered.

"Call the police, if you like," laughed Bansemer, at the end of
his tirade. "It isn't a criminal offence to tell the truth. It will
sound just as well in court, Mr. Rigby."

"Jane, Jane," Mrs Cable was murmuring, "I might have saved you all
this, but I couldn't--oh, I couldn't pay the price."