"It was not Francis who returned," I asserted doggedly, "but Felix--Felix, who pretends to be in Paris."
"But this letter!"
"Bah! That was written here by Briarfield, and forwarded to a friend in Paris to be posted back to you."
"Liar!" cried Felix, dashing forward with clenched fists; "if you don't retract that statement, I'll----"
"For pity's sake be quiet," entreated Olivia, throwing herself between us. "Do not bring my mother here. Francis, you do not know the harm you are doing. Mr. Denham," she added, turning to me as he suddenly stepped back, "do you say this gentleman is Felix?"
"I do! Most decidedly.
"I tell you, sir, it is not so. This is my affianced lover, Francis. Great Heavens! could a woman make a mistake in so serious a matter?"
"I believe the resemblance between the brothers would deceive anyone."
"Let us settle the question by going to the Fen Inn," said Felix sharply. "I'll wager that there we find neither landlord nor anyone."
"You don't believe me," said I quickly.