A terrible silence ensued, broken by the querulous voice of Mr. Temple:
"This woman's story is false. Arthur, will you take her word against mine? Remember what I have done for you--think of the love I bear you! Do nothing rash, I implore you! Say, if you like, that she has not lied. I will be kind to her, and will see that her life is passed in comfort. Will that content you?" He paused between every sentence for his son to speak, but no sound passed Arthur's lips. From the depths of his soul, whose leading principles were honour and justice, the young man was seeking for the right path. Exasperated by his silence, Mr. Temple continued, and in a rash moment said: "What can she adduce but her bare word? What evidence that the girl is my child?"
A voice from the rear of the group supplied the proof he asked for. It was Richards who spoke.
"I can give the evidence. The girl is your child."
Mr. Temple turned upon him with a look of fear, and the eyes of all were directed to Richards' face.
The scene had produced so profound an effect upon the man that, holding the last link required to complete the chain, he was impressed with a superstitious dread that a judgment would fall upon him if he held back at this supreme moment.
"The child is yours. Before you instructed me to ascertain the particulars concerning Seth Dumbrick's life, I had made the discovery. It was I who took the child to Rosemary Lane, and left her there."
"You traitor!" cried Mr. Temple, almost frenzied; "you have deceived and betrayed me!"
"You told me," said Richards, in a dogged voice, "that you wished the child placed in such a position in life that she should never be able to suspect who was her father, and I did the best I could. You employed me to do your dirty work, and I did it, and was paid for it. And when, to try you, I told you that your child had died, you expressed in your manner so little pity, that, having learned to know you, I thought it as well not to undeceive you."
The last link was supplied, and the chain was complete. This disclosure effected a startling change in Mr. Temple's demeanour. He drew himself up haughtily. "Arthur, I command you to come with me."