riveted on the man designated. Every drop of blood seemed to have
frozen in his veins.

"Good God, Elias!" he whispered. "Why, that is--" The name stuck
in his throat.

"The son of the man who signed the banknote. He is Jane's father.
There's blue blood in him--there has been since King Henry's day--but
he is a villain for all that. Now, Miss Cable, I've done my duty.
I've told you the absolute truth. You could not have expected more--you
could not have asked a greater climax. The name of Vanderbilt or
Astor is no better known than that man's name, and no ancestry is
better than that of your mother. I will now give to you one of the
articles of proof that connects you with their history." He handed
to her a small package. "It is the letter written to James Bansemer
by your paternal grandfather, agreeing to an appointment to discuss
a question of grave moment. I found the letter that same day, and
I've kept it all these years. It bears your grandfather's signature.
That is all. I heard part of that interview, and I stake my soul
that what I've told you is true."

Jane sat looking at him as if paralysed. Her mind was quite incapable
of grasping the full import of his words--the words she had craved
for so many months, and yet dreaded.

"I knew he was coming here to-night. He gives a theatre party.
To-morrow he goes abroad. That is all."

"He's living in Paris," muttered Graydon mechanically. Jane spoke
for the first time, as in a daze.