Humphrey started. He changed colour. He sat up in his chair. He listened eagerly. His lip trembled.
"He understands," Molly whispered.
"No; he begins to understand what was meant," Dick returned. "He cannot guess the whole."
Yes; he understood now that he was face to face with a great danger. Many things became plain to him—Molly's words, John Haveril's words, Sir Robert's words.
He understood the nature of the danger. He listened, while a horrible terror seized him at the mere prospect of that danger. He heard the rest with a sense of relief, equalled only by his sense of the danger.
Alice went on. "I first saw you at the theatre one night. You were so much like my husband that I concluded that you must be my son. I met you at Sir Robert's. I became certain that you were my son. We made inquiries. Please tell him, Sir Robert."
"These inquiries," said the doctor, "proved certain things which were curious and interesting. I may confess that they seemed to point in your direction. This lady became too hastily convinced that they did so. She is now as firmly convinced that they did not."
Humphrey sighed deeply.
"It was an awkward case," Sir Robert went on—"one that required tact."
"I gave a great deal of trouble"—Alice took up the wondrous tale again.