"A family name——"
"Yes. Your wife wanted your family name in it—but she wanted her father's name too—Patrick—so she called the boy Patrice—we can prove this now, I think."
"Assuredly, Monsieur," said de Vautrin, "you are a genius."
"No. I'm only a good guesser. But it worked. I got the poor thing rattled. And when I saw Nora's face I knew I'd hit with the second barrel."
Outside it was getting dark. Horton went to the window and peered out.
"Monsieur de Vautrin, there's nothing to keep you here now," he said. "It may be even dangerous to remain. You must go away incognito and by the first train. You've been very careless with your affairs. Lay your entire case in the hands of your lawyer—telling him all that has happened here and sending to Ireland for a careful search of the birth records of the parish of Athlone——"
"But you, Monsieur. What will you do?"
"I shall stay here awhile. There's something else that I must do."
"And Piquette——?"
"I will see that she returns safely."