"It was, together with the fact that of course I withdraw in favour of Colonel Tempest, the heir at law. I am going on to him from here."
Lord Frederick reared himself slowly in his bed, his brown hands clutching the bedclothes like eagles' talons.
"You are going to own your——"
"My shame—yes; not yours. You need not be alarmed. Your name shall not be brought in. If I take the name of Fane, it will only be because it was my mother's."
"But you said you had burned the letters."
"I have. I don't see what difference that makes. The fact that they are burnt does not alter the fact that I am—nobody, and he is the legal heir."
"And you mean to tell him so?"
"I do."
"To commit suicide?"
"Social suicide—yes."