The captain of the "Vixen" had arisen from his chair. He stood before his son-in-law, breathless, crimson with passion.
"George Jernam," he cried, "do you want me to knock you down? Egad, my fine gentleman, you may consider yourself lucky that I have not done it before this. What do you mean by all that balderdash you've been talking? What does it all mean, I say? Are you drunk, or mad, or both?"
"Captain Duncombe," said George, calmly, "do you really wish me to speak plainly?"
"It will be very much the worse for you if you don't," retorted the infuriated captain.
"First, then, let me tell you that before I left River View Cottage last July, your daughter pressed me to avail myself of the contents of your desk one day when I was in want of foreign letter-paper."
"Well, what then?"
"Very much against my own inclination, I consented to open that desk with a key in Rosamond's possession. I did not pry into the secrets of its contents; but before me, in the tray intended for pens, I saw an object which could not fail to attract my attention—which riveted my gaze as surely as if I had 'lighted on a snake."
"What in the name of all that's bewildering could that object have been?" cried the captain. "I don't keep many curiosities in my writing-desk!"
"I will show you what I found that day," answered George. "The finding of it changed the whole current of my life, and sent me away from that once happy home a restless and miserable wanderer."
"The man's mad," muttered Captain Duncombe to himself; "he must be mad!"