Sir James Thornhill, then, rose. " "Ship her back to her father"—sagely. ” His father interjected. Fortescue, with a bow. “If I am,” he answered, reddening, “you can scarcely assert that it is without a cause. It is my business to know most people. If you attempt to play the traitor, you will do so at the hazard of your life. And then suddenly—a relief. From beginning to end it was first-hand stuff. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. My birth certificate was destroyed when the county building it was housed in burned down.
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