"You don't believe me?"
"I do—in a way. It seems to be true. You say so, and Mrs Gabriel also. I suppose I am your son. But I am hoping against hope that you may not be able to prove the truth."
"Leo," said Pratt, following him to the window, "I am your father, and if you intend to leave Sybil you may as well come with me. I can go with you to South America, and there I can lead a new life. I am rich in spite of losing The Nun's House. I have a belt of jewels!—thousands of pounds of the most valuable—"
"And all stolen," cried Leo, thrusting him back in disgust. "For God's sake don't speak to me any more, or I shall forget that you are my father! If you only knew how I loathe myself for being your son! I never thought it would come to this. Let me go—let me go!" and Leo, pulling his arm from the grasp of Pratt, rushed out on to the terrace.
In another ten minutes Mrs Gabriel re-entered. She found Pratt with his head buried in his arms, sobbing like a child. At the sight she burst out laughing. Then she locked the window Leo had left open.
"Get to bed, Pratt," she said, contemptuously, "and pleasant dreams to you!"