"The girl will give us the necessary information, of course," Mr. Desmond exclaimed, his spirits rising.
"On the contrary, she obstinately refuses to do so. She makes a most perplexing mystery of her unhappy situation."
Mr. Desmond looked uneasy and perplexed a moment, then he exclaimed, confidently:
"It is only a question of blackmail then. She will tell the truth if a golden bribe is offered her. Depend upon it, she is only waiting for that."
"You are mistaken," Richard Leith returned, gravely. "You do not understand her motives. I will tell you a harrowing secret, Desmond. I have discovered that that unfortunate girl is my own daughter!"
In a few eloquent words he told Mr. Desmond the story of his strange marriage, and its tragic denouement—the lost wife, the ruined daughter.
In his own despair and agitation, it did not seem strange to the lawyer that his excitement was reflected on the face of his listener, but when he had finished his story, Desmond sprang wildly to his feet, exclaiming:
"Good God, Leith, I can lay my hand on the destroyer of your child. It is my wife's brother—it is Bertram Chesleigh!"
"Heaven, how blind I have been!" Richard Leith exclaimed, with lurid eyes, and a deathly-pale face.