"Perhaps you will tell me?" said Paul presently.
"I will tell you everything that you ask, my boy."
"Then tell me why you masqueraded in Scotland under a false name? Tell me why you left my mother on the day you married her."
"Douglas Graham was my name," he replied. "I had no thought of masquerading."
"Then why have you become Bolitho?" asked Paul. "My mother told me that on the night of your wedding day you read a letter which had been given to you which seemed to surprise you very much. Tell me the meaning of it."
The judge gave no answer, and again he rocked to and fro in his misery. "Paul, my son," he said. "I cannot!"
Again the two men looked at each other steadily. Paul's mind was active again now.
"You know what your confession meant this morning," he said at length. "You declared to the court that I was your son, your lawful son; that my mother was your lawful wife. But what of Mary? Tell me that. You know what I wrote to you concerning her. I asked you to allow me to try and win her as my wife, not knowing of the relations which existed between us—not knowing anything. You know, too, the cruel reply you sent to me—a reply which contained an insult in every line, in every word. But let that pass. If my mother is your lawful wife, what of Mary's mother? Will you answer me that?"
Still the judge stood with bowed head. It seemed as though he had been struck a death-blow. More than once he essayed to speak, but no words passed his lips. It seemed an eternity to Paul before the judge spoke again.
"At least I tried to do you justice, Paul," he stammered. "I tried to do—that is, I tried to proclaim to the world that your mother was a lawful wife."