The party in the gun-room were silent while they waited for Jim. Mrs. Halliday glanced at the others curiously and got a sense of strain. Dick, looking disturbed but resolute, leaned against the table opposite Mordaunt, whose face was rather white; Bernard occupied the bench by the wall and his look was inscrutable. All was very quiet except for the snapping of the stove and the occasional rattle of a cinder falling through the bars. It was something of a relief when Jim came in and Bernard turned on the light.
"Sit down, Jim," he said. "Dick has something to tell us that he thinks you ought to hear. He hints that it is important."
"It is important," Dick replied. "The thing has weighed on me for some time. In fact, the load is too heavy and I feel I must get rid of it. I want to hand over my responsibility, and you are the head of the house, sir."
"Very well," said Bernard. "The post has drawbacks. You had better go on."
"Then I'll begin some time since; the night Lance and I met Jim at the telegraph shack. We talked about England and Jim asked if we knew Langrigg. There was an old French romance on a shelf and Lance read a passage. He studied the book when Jim left the shack, and I found out afterwards that Franklin Dearham's name was written across the front page. You see what this implies, sir?"
"You mean Lance knew who Jim was, although you did not. When did you find out?"
"I picked up the book one day at Langrigg. Lance was there. He admitted that he had seen the writing at the telegraph shack."
Jim turned to Mordaunt sharply. "Then, you meant to let me stay in Canada!"
"I did," said Mordaunt, who addressed Bernard. "I thought it would be better for Jim and us if he did not know Langrigg was his. I have not changed my views about it since."
"That has been rather obvious," Bernard remarked and asked Dick: "Why did you keep the thing dark?"