“The Signorina Ethelwynn has just arrived, signore,” remarked the highly respectable manservant.
“Ah! then tell my daughter to come up?” he cried. “She will no doubt satisfy Mr Holford that I am no impostor.”
“Miss Ethelwynn saw her father lying dead, as I did; how, therefore, can she identify you as her deceased parent? Have you a half-brother, or some relation strongly resembling you?”
“No, I have not,” was his quick reply. “I am simply Professor Ernest Greer, whom a thousand persons living can identify.”
At that moment the fair-haired girl neatly attired in fur jacket, tailor-made skirt, and toque entered, and, with a spring, fell into the impostor’s arms and kissed him.
That piece of acting was, without doubt, perfect. Yet I stood aside and smiled. Had not Kirk previously admitted to me that his earnest endeavour was to secure my silence?
“Am I your father?” asked the dark-eyed man of Ethelwynn, standing with his hand upon her shoulder.
“Of course you are, dear dad! Why?”
“Because this gentleman will not believe it!” he laughed.
“This is my father, Mr Holford,” the girl declared, turning to me.