The cabman must wait until he had finished the letter. He read on.
"You will naturally ask why I am telling these facts now. I have two reasons. Fortune has deserted me at last. I had intended to reveal Guy's parentage when he stood in the dock so deeply stained with crime that part of the odium he incurred would necessarily fall upon you. More recently I determined that I would refrain from putting that coping stone on the edifice of my revenge. Not out of any misplaced tenderness for you. Do not think that. My reason was a purely selfish one. My adopted son had somehow endeared himself to me. I foresaw in him an ornament to my own profession. I became sentimental and so, foolish. I thought he should always remain my son. I forgot that he had your blood in his veins and I let him fall under your influence. I forgot too that a girl can shatter the most complete philosophy with a glance of her eyes. The young fool has fallen in love with Meriel Challys, and the consequence is that he has got into his head a ridiculous idea that he must deliver himself up to justice in order to make amends for his legitimate spoiling of the Egyptians, Flurscheim and yourself. He is proposing to do so within the next forty-eight hours, so you may have time to prevent his voluntary martyrdom—a martyrdom he will certainly regret, judging from my own experience. Do not think, however, that I am only animated by Guy's interests. I am still keenly alive to my own safety. I have had quite enough of prison life, and am well prepared with means of escape, though I do not desire to end my existence just yet. Of course, if you care to sacrifice your son in order that I shall not escape, that is your affair. Guy knows nothing of his parentage, though I have taken steps to inform him of it should you fail to do so. I shall not leave him entirely in your hands."
Captain Marven laid the letter down, and, dropping his face in his hands, he groaned aloud. His heart was sick with anguish. His long lost son was returned to him, but in what guise? By training, by profession, he was a thief. Guy Marven, his son, a thief! The horror of it was almost too great to be borne! It was the bitterest blow of his life, far more bitter even than the blow which had fallen when his baby boy had been stolen from him. If Lynton Hora could have watched the effect produced by his communication, even his thirst for revenge would have been satisfied. But more bitter even than the knowledge of what his son had become was the realisation of the burden of duty which the revelation thrust upon him. As he realised his duty in the matter, Captain Marven's face was grey with anguish. He had found his son only to lose him again—to lose him amongst the yellow-garbed denizens of the convict prison. More, it was he who must, with his own hand, send him to that outer darkness. God grant that his son would be a man! God grant it! That was Captain Marven's earnest prayer.
Then his wife and Meriel? What if they were to learn of Guy's relationship. Captain Marven could only dimly conceive the effect upon them.
The servant came again to announce that the cab was awaiting him. Marven rose, but it was as a man ten years older than the one who had opened Hora's letter ten minutes before. His face was lined, and his hand tremulous, but his lips were set firmly. He saw his duty plainly before him. There was only one path he could tread, even though every step on that path gave him a fresh pang. But he must see Guy first, before he took that step.
He entered the cab and was driven to the Albany. He was more master of himself by the time he arrived. He wondered what he should do if Guy should be absent from home, for the time at his command was short. Within an hour he was due at the Foreign Office.
Guy opened the door, and started with amazement at sight of his visitor's face.
"Captain Marven!" he exclaimed. Then a great fear took possession of him. "Meriel?" he gasped.
Marven grasped the intention of the query.
"Meriel was all right when I left her this morning," he replied.