"I am glad to find you here, Sir George," he shouted. "The police are making all kinds of accusations against me. They say, forsooth, that I have tried to burn the house down, and all because a matchbox of mine was found in the ashes. I suppose I am not the first man in the world who has lost a matchbox. And I've been telling Drake here that I have every reason that the house should not be injured."
"So my daughter informs me," Sir George replied in the same whining voice. "Seeing that you claim to be the son of Ralph Dashwood----"
The other man laughed defiantly. All the same he could not meet the glance that Mary turned upon him. His bold eyes were turned to her face, then they dropped as if looking for something on the floor.
"I'm very sorry," Drake put in, "but this is a serious matter. The finding of that box, the mere fact that Mr. Dashwood was seen here at the hour of the fire, all make it necessary for me to take certain steps----"
"I must speak," Vincent Dashwood broke out. "I did not mean to proclaim the truth, because I was not ready to do so. And there was Lady Dashwood to be considered. Still, as I see that Mr. Drake is prepared to go to the extreme length of arresting me for the alleged act of arson, I am compelled to declare the truth for my own protection. Drake tells me that he has lived in the adjacent town of Longtown all his life, so he must be more or less acquainted with the family of Dashwood. He knows, for instance, that Mr. Ralph Dashwood left here forty years ago, and that his friends have seen nothing of him since. I suppose that statement is not too much for your intelligence, Drake?"
"I am quite aware that you are quoting facts, sir," Drake said grimly.
"Very well. I'm glad to hear that you believe something I say. It is not generally known, but it will be clearly established before long that Mr. Ralph Dashwood married an American lady, by whom he had one child, a son. To go farther, I may say that that son now stands before you. I am the only son of Ralph Dashwood, born in lawful wedlock, as Lady Dashwood perfectly well knows, and therefore the property belongs to me. There is no such person really as Sir George Dashwood; as a matter of fact, Sir Vincent Dashwood--in other words, myself--is head of the family and owner of the place. There is only one proof necessary, and that I hope to have in my hands in a few days. I allude to the certificate of my parents' wedding. And now, Mr. Drake, after hearing all this, can you suggest that I should gain anything by burning this house down? If I had had an impulse in that direction, I could easily have waited for an opportunity of committing that folly in a safer fashion."
Drake was bound to admit that the astounding revelations made all the difference in the complexion of the case. Sir George Dashwood listened with a dark look on his face. Mary turned to the door to see that Ralph Darnley was standing there. The mere knowledge of his presence seemed to support and comfort her in this trying hour. Yet she did not feel the poignant sorrow and sense of loss as keenly as she should.
"Mr. Darnley will tell us if this is true," she cried.
"Lady Dashwood will tell you so, at any rate," Ralph responded. "I have taken the liberty of listening to what this gentleman had to say. It so happens that I can throw considerable light on the story. As I told you last night, I knew the late Ralph Dashwood very well, though I had not the honour of meeting the man who claims to be his son. Perhaps Mr. Dashwood will reply to a few of my questions. Will he tell me, for instance, in what part of California his mother lived?"