"Yes," answered Mr. Chesleigh, with the flush of joyful triumph on his handsome face. "He will solve for you the strange mystery of your daughter's disappearance, sixteen years ago."
A cry came from Richard Leith's white lips. The old man echoed it feebly, as he rose and went to his son, but John waved him rudely back.
"Do not come near me," he said, harshly; "I have always hated you because you loved my sister best."
"I could not help it, John. She was more lovable than you," the father faltered, feebly.
"And so she stole your love from me and earned my hate. But I have had a great revenge," said the relentless wretch, grimly.
"Oh, John, John!"
The wailing cry came from the old man's lips; he looked at his son in surprise and horror.
"Yes, revenge," repeated John Glenalvan, seeming to take a malicious pride in his wickedness now that its revelation was forced upon him. "I hated her, and when my opportunity came, I seized upon it. I knew she was a wife, yet it was my hand that sent her that lying letter that made her leave her husband."
"Devil!" Richard Leith muttered, making an effort to spring upon him, but Bertram Chesleigh held him back, and the villain who had so wronged him laughed mockingly.
"She came home," he went on, after a minute, "came home, and her child was born. The following night came her mysterious disappearance which I accounted for by declaring that she had returned to her deceiver, unable to exist away from him."