“You know me now!” cried the stranger. “I see it in your face.”
“You’re not him!” exclaimed Potts, in a piercing voice.
“I am LOUIS BRANDON!”
“I knew it! I knew it!” cried John, in a voice which was almost a shriek.
“Cigole played false. I’ll make him pay for this,” gasped Potts.
“Cigole did not play false. He killed me as well as he could—But away, both of you. I can not breathe while you are here. I will allow you an hour to be gone.”
At the end of the hour Brandon of Brandon Hall was at last master in the home of his ancestors.