The horse and servant belonging to De Winter were waitingfor him at the door; he proceeded toward his abode verythoughtfully, looking behind him from time to him tocontemplate the dark and silent frontage of the Louvre. Itwas then that he saw a horseman, as it were, detach himselffrom the wall and follow him at a little distance. Inleaving the Palais Royal he remembered to have observed asimilar shadow.

"Tony," he said, motioning to his groom to approach.

"Here I am, my lord."

"Did you remark that man who is following us?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Who is he?"

"I do not know, only he has followed your grace from thePalais Royal, stopped at the Louvre to wait for you, and nowleaves the Louvre with you."

"Some spy of the cardinal," said De Winter to him, aside."Let us pretend not to notice that he is watching us."

And spurring on he plunged into the labyrinth of streetswhich led to his hotel, situated near the Marais, for havingfor so long a time lived near the Place Royale, Lord deWinter naturally returned to lodge near his ancientdwelling.

The unknown spurred his horse to a gallop.

De Winter dismounted at his hotel and went up into hisapartment, intending to watch the spy; but as he was aboutto place his gloves and hat on a table, he saw reflected ina glass opposite to him a figure which stood on thethreshold of the room. He turned around and Mordaunt stoodbefore him.

There was a moment of frozen silence between these two.

"Sir," said De Winter, "I thought I had already made youaware that I am weary of this persecution; withdraw, then,or I shall call and have you turned out as you were inLondon. I am not your uncle, I know you not."

"My uncle," replied Mordaunt, with his harsh and banteringtone, "you are mistaken; you will not have me turned outthis time as you did in London - you dare not. As fordenying that I am your nephew, you will think twice aboutit, now that I have learned some things of which I wasignorant a year ago."

"And how does it concern me what you have learned?" said DeWinter.

"Oh, it concerns you very closely, my uncle, I am sure, andyou will soon be of my opinion," added he, with a smilewhich sent a shudder through the veins of him he thusaddressed. "When I presented myself before you for the firsttime in London, it was to ask you what had become of myfortune; the second time it was to demand who had sullied myname; and this time I come before you to ask a question farmore terrible than any other, to say to you as God said tothe first murderer: `Cain, what hast thou done to thybrother Abel?' My lord, what have you done with your sister- your sister, who was my mother?"

De Winter shrank back from the fire of those scorching eyes.

"Your mother?" he said.

"Yes, my lord, my mother," replied the young man, advancinginto the room until he was face to face with Lord de Winter,and crossing his arms. "I have asked the headsman ofBethune," he said, his voice hoarse and his face livid withpassion and grief. "And the headsman of Bethune gave me areply."

De Winter fell back in a chair as though struck by athunderbolt and in vain attempted a reply.

"Yes," continued the young man; "all is now explained; withthis key I open the abyss. My mother inherited an estatefrom her husband, you have assassinated her; my name wouldhave secured me the paternal estate, you have deprived me ofit; you have despoiled me of my fortune. I am no longerastonished that you knew me not. I am not surprised that yourefused to recognize me. When a man is a robber it is hardto call him nephew whom he has impoverished; when one is amurderer, to recognize the man whom one has made an orphan."

These words produced a contrary effect to that whichMordaunt had anticipated. De Winter remembered the monsterthat Milady had been; he rose, dignified and calm,restraining by the severity of his look the wild glance ofthe young man.

"You desire to fathom this horrible secret?" said De Winter;"well, then, so be it. Know, then, what manner of woman itwas for whom to-day you call me to account. That woman had,in all probability, poisoned my brother, and in order toinherit from me she was about to assassinate me in my turn.I have proof of it. What say you to that?"

"I say that she was my mother."

"She caused the unfortunate Duke of Buckingham to be stabbedby a man who was, ere that, honest, good and pure. What sayyou to that crime, of which I have the proof?"

"She was my mother."

"On our return to France she had a young woman who wasattached to one of her opponents poisoned in the convent ofthe Augustines at Bethune. Will this crime persuade you ofthe justice of her punishment - for of all this I have theproofs?"

"She was my mother!" cried the young man, who uttered thesethree successive exclamations with constantly increasingforce.

"At last, charged with murders, with debauchery, hated byevery one and yet threatening still, like a pantherthirsting for blood, she fell under the blows of men whomshe had rendered desperate, though they had never done herthe least injury; she met with judges whom her hideouscrimes had evoked; and that executioner you saw - thatexecutioner who you say told you everything - thatexecutioner, if he told you everything, told you that heleaped with joy in avenging on her his brother's shame andsuicide. Depraved as a girl, adulterous as a wife, anunnatural sister, homicide, poisoner, execrated by all whoknew her, by every nation that had been visited by her, shedied accursed by Heaven and earth."

A sob which Mordaunt could not repress burst from his throatand his livid face became suffused with blood; he clenchedhis fists, sweat covered his face, his hair, like Hamlet's,stood on end, and racked with fury he cried out:

"Silence, sir! she was my mother! Her crimes, I know themnot; her disorders, I know them not; her vices, I know themnot. But this I know, that I had a mother, that five menleagued against one woman, murdered her clandestinely bynight - silently - like cowards. I know that you were oneof them, my uncle, and that you cried louder than theothers: `She must die.' Therefore I warn you, and listenwell to my words, that they may be engraved upon yourmemory, never to be forgotten: this murder, which has robbedme of everything - this murder, which has deprived me of myname - this murder, which has impoverished me - thismurder, which has made me corrupt, wicked, implacable - Ishall summon you to account for it first and then those whowere your accomplices, when I discover them!"

With hatred in his eyes, foaming at his mouth, and his fistextended, Mordaunt had advanced one more step, athreatening, terrible step, toward De Winter. The latter puthis hand to his sword, and said, with the smile of a man whofor thirty years has jested with death:

"Would you assassinate me, sir? Then I shall recognize youas my nephew, for you would be a worthy son of such amother."

"No," replied Mordaunt, forcing his features and the musclesof his body to resume their usual places and be calm; "no, Ishall not kill you; at least not at this moment, for withoutyou I could not discover the others. But when I have foundthem, then tremble, sir. I stabbed to the heart the headsmanof Bethune, without mercy or pity, and he was the leastguilty of you all."

With these words the young man went out and descended thestairs with sufficient calmness to pass unobserved; thenupon the lowest landing place he passed Tony, leaning overthe balustrade, waiting only for a call from his master tomount to his room.

But De Winter did not call; crushed, enfeebled, he remainedstanding and with listening ear; then only when he had heardthe step of the horse going away he fell back on a chair,saying:

"My God, I thank Thee that he knows me only."