"Have not you confessed under your own name?"
"No," replied Raymond, with a curious remnant of that pride of race at which it is the undisputed privilege of low birth and a plebeian temperament to sneer. "I won't have my own name dragged in. I dropped it years ago. I've confessed as Stephens, and I'll die and be buried as Stephens. I'm not going to disgrace the family."
There was a constrained silence of some minutes.
"Would you like to see your sister?" asked Charles; but Raymond shook his head with feeble decision.
"That man!" he said, suddenly, after a long pause. "That man in the door-way! How did he come there?"
"There is no man in the door-way," said Charles, reassuringly. "There is no one here but me."
"Last night," continued Raymond, "last night in the stables. I watched him stand in the door-way."
Charles remembered how Dare had said Raymond had bolted out past him.
"That was Dare," he said; "the man who was to have been your brother-in-law."
"Ah!" said Raymond with evident unconcern. "I thought I'd seen him before. But he's altered. He's grown into a man. So he is to marry Ruth, is he?"