"You may depend upon my doing what is just and right," said Mrs. Purcell, vigorously. "I will communicate with Olive at once; yes, and I will invite her to come here. That Mr. Carson should behave so basely is a matter of the most profound astonishment to me. I had read his character otherwise. I can but ascribe this deterioration to the counsel and wiles of Major Semberry."
"That is one way of explaining it," said Mallow, taking out his pocket-book; "but there is yet another and more conclusive one. This is a portrait which Mr. Carson had taken at Sandbeach. May I ask you to look at it carefully, and to tell me what you think of it?"
Mrs. Purcell took the photograph and examined it.
"This is either an extremely bad portrait, or Mr. Carson has altered sadly for the worse," she said at length.
Mallow felt his heart beating furiously.
"In what way has Mr. Carson altered?" he asked, anxiously.
"Oh, his whole expression is quite different, Mr. Mallow. When last I saw him, Mr. Carson's face was replete with intellectual vigour; he was sad and sombre, too, not bright and smiling as he is depicted here. His moustache was very much heavier, and he certainly was not so tall as this picture represents him to be."
"It would not surprise you then, Mrs. Purcell, if I were to tell you that this was not Mr. Carson's portrait at all?"
"No, Mr. Mallow, it would not. At first glance, I did not notice many things that appear to me as I look into it. Mr. Carson's face may, of course, have changed. The circumstances of his life may have caused his expression to brighten. It is possible, too, that his moustache may be of less luxuriant growth, but I confess I do not understand how he can have become less of stature. No, Mr. Mallow, the man here represented is not Mr. Angus Carson!"