A strange terror was creeping upon her, and she could not speak.
"David--yes!--that was quite right--David was his name," proceeded Sir Francis cautiously.

"But he had another name--a surname which perhaps you may, or may not have heard.

That name was Helmsley----" She sprang up with a cry, remembering Angus Reay's story about his first love, Lucy Sorrel, and her millionaire.
"Helmsley! Not David Helmsley!" "Yes,--David Helmsley! The 'poor old tramp' you sheltered in your home,--the friendless and penniless stranger you cared for so unselfishly and tenderly, was one of the richest men in the world!" She stood amazed,--stricken as by a lightning shock.
"One of the richest men in the world!" she faltered.

"One of the richest----" and here, with a little stifled sob, she wrung her hands together.

"Oh no--no! That can't be true! He would never have deceived me!" Sir Francis felt an uncomfortable tightness in his throat.