"The one old Tomkins left in the safe. Some one must have got hold of that letter."
"How do you know that, father?"
"I know it because I have had threatening letters, anonymous ones at first, just vague hints of what might be done. But, after several of these had come, I had a mysterious visitor. He waylaid me one evening when I was walking in the shrubbery. I could not see his face well, he wore a long coat, and his collar was turned up, and feel sure that he was wearing a sham beard and moustache. He told me that he knew something in my past life, unknown to the world at large; he said that he had met a man whom he knew to be my son, born in South Africa, not far from Kimberley; and then he informed me that, if I did not give him a large sum of money, he would at once disclose my desertion of that son, and cause my secret to be known to the world.
"Kenneth, I never knew till then that you were alive. You were such a small, sickly child, that I had no thought or expectation of your living more than a few months at most. Then I did know, but not till then. The man waited for my answer, and I told him to come again to the same place at midnight. I went in to consider what I should do. The Countess was alive then, and I dare not let her know how I had deceived her. She would never have married me, had she known that I had a son; for her great desire had been to have a child to inherit my title and both our estates. But how could I, after all those years, let her know that I had deceived her? She was a hot-tempered woman, and there would have been an awful scene. So, like the coward that I was, I wrote the cheque, and gave it to him under the deep shadow of the great chestnut tree near the lake."
"Did you ever see him again, father?"
"Twice again, and each time he demanded a larger sum. At last I told him that I declined to give him another farthing, until he revealed the source of his information, and brought some proof of the truth of his statements; and from that day to this I have never seen or heard of him. Do you know who he is, Kenneth, and how he got to know?"
Kenneth gave his father the history of Watson, and of the disappearance of the letter from the safe, and then he told him what Marjorie had heard from the old woman in whose house at Daisy Bank the letter had been found.
"That explains it all, Kenneth. Now that brings us to the time of the fire and your visit to the Castle. When you came into the library that day, I saw the strong likeness to myself at once. I knew you must be my son. At one moment I thought I would send Montague Jones away, and would tell you the truth; at the next my heart failed me. What would the county families round think of my behaviour? What a revelation of cowardice and injustice it would be to the servants and tenants! How it would lower me in the estimation of every one I knew! Then your letter came, Kenneth, telling me facts which I knew to be true, leaving no room for speculation or doubt.
"You will wonder that my heart was not touched by it; I wonder at it myself. But I hardened my heart against you. I dared not lose the good opinion of my friends. Above all, I dared not tell Kenmore, my half-brother. He considers himself my heir; he prides himself upon it. I have been told that he has already planned how to alter and improve the park and gardens when I am gone. He does not care for me, nor I for him; but I felt that I could not bear the storm which this revelation would raise. But since then—that was in October, was it not?"
"Yes, father, the fourteenth of October."