"In favor of Oliver Conrad and his mother."
"His mother is dead!" said Kenyon nervously; "and by her will the property is mine."
"The will is a forgery."
"Take care what you say, sir. I require you to prove it."
"I shall prove it by Mrs. Conrad herself."
As he spoke, Mrs. Conrad, who had been in the carriage, entered the room. She never spoke to her husband, but sat down quietly, while Roland stared at her, open-mouthed, as at one from the grave.
"Father," he exclaimed, "didn't you tell me she was dead?"
"She never died, but was incarcerated by your father in an insane asylum, while he forged a will bequeathing him the property," said the lawyer. "Well, Mr. Kenyon, what have you to say?"
"Gentlemen, the game is up," said Kenyon sullenly. "I played for high stakes, and have lost. That's all."
"You have placed yourself in the power of the wife you have wronged. You could be indicted for forgery and conspiracy. Do you admit that?"