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“I propose, therefore, that the Secretary write to Lord Harry Norland, informing him that the Company have had nothing at all to do with his wife, and do not recognise her action in any way. We shall then see what happens, and can proceed in accordance.” At this moment a card was brought in. It was that of Mr. Erskine himself, senior partner in the very firm. He came in, old, eminently respectable, but shaken. He was greatly shaken. “Gentlemen,” he said nervously, “I hasten to bring you a communication, a most extraordinary communication, which I have just received. It is nothing less than a confession — a full confession — from a person whom I had every reason to believe was dead. It is from Lord Harry Norland.” “We know already,” said the Chairman, superior, “the main facts which you are going to lay before us. We are met to-day in order to discuss our action in view of these facts. There has been a conspiracy of a very artful and ingenious character. It has been successful so far through the action of a woman. By the action of the same woman it is sought to make restitution. The hand of justice, however —” “Perhaps,” said the lawyer, “you will oblige me by allowing me to read the letter.” “Pray read it”— the Chairman bowed —“though I do not suppose it will add to the information we already possess.” “Gentlemen”— the lawyer read —“You will be surprised and pained to learn that I am not — as you were given to understand — dead; but on the other hand, living and in the enjoyment of rude health. I see no reason why my life should not be prolonged to threescore years and ten.