Then he read the letter, while the Marquis, restless and set-faced, listened, still biting his lip. It was dated from London.
"'Dear Sir:
It is only after much hesitation and with much reluctance that I approach you to solicit your aid in a purely personal matter. Under the circumstances, however, I feel sure you will forgive the intrusion. I find it difficult to find words adequately to express all that is in my heart. I will therefore confine myself to a brief summary of the facts.
My second son, the Hon. Charles Percival Humphries Hardisty, whose portrait I enclose'"—the Marquis winced as Hector read the name and pushed forward the photograph—"'is, I believe, at present serving in your Corps as a constable or trooper. He was, perhaps, our favourite son. He was to have had a Commission in the 1st. Life Guards but, for certain misdemeanors, was forced to leave Sandhurst. We had, I regret to say, hard words on the subject—I am afraid I went too far but the matter involved certain points of honour on which I felt very strongly. And he was high-spirited and headstrong, as I should have remembered. However, to avoid wearying you with painful particulars in which you can have no great interest, I cut off his allowance, or rather reduced it to a minimum, and ordered him to leave the country for the Colonies. He chose Canada. Until some years ago, I made him a monthly remittance and endeavored to set him up as a rancher. He ran so into debt, however, that I eventually told him—again, to my present regret—I would do no more. Reports had come to me that he was leading a wild, worthless life in a small town in the Territories near the ranch whereon he was employed. He then wrote to me, saying I would never hear of him again. Since then, my enquiries have intimated that he had joined the North-West Mounted Police. As he was a fine horseman and fond of soldiering, this is probably so. I have frequently written him, sending the letters by general delivery as I know he would not wish his identity to become known to his comrades but have had no answer. This does not necessarily mean that he has not received them but he is so sensitively proud that he may have decided to ignore them. He is probably using an assumed name but the photograph I enclose will enable you to trace him.
My object in writing you, sir, is to beg you, firstly, to be so good as to ascertain whether my son is actually serving in your Corps; secondly, to entreat you not to be severe on the boy if, as I fear, he has misconducted himself while under your command; thirdly, to enlist your assistance to save him from the ruinous path he has taken; and, finally, to use your influence towards inducing him to reply to my letters, at least advising us of his health and whereabouts. I authorize you to inform him that I have repented of my somewhat hasty judgment and will make amends as far as possible and also to tell him that unless a reconciliation is effected now, I fear it never will be, for the anxiety is slowly killing his mother.
In closing, I again apologize for thus troubling you but feel you but understand. And may God bless your efforts.
Thanking you,
Believe me, sir,
Yours truly and indebtedly,
Hannyngton.'"
A long silence was broken at last by Hector:
"That is the letter ... The photo, Humphries, is of yourself ... the writer is a peer of very old family, Baron Hannyngton ... your father...."
The Marquis neither moved nor spoke.