me with astonishment. Even when I first saw him, in all his dirt and misery, there was a lingering expression in his face that came upon me like a glimpse of some old friend flashing on one in a vivid dream. I need not tell you he was snared away before I knew his history—"
"Why not?" asked Monks hastily.
"Because you know it well."
"I!"
"Denial to me is vain," replied Mr. Brownlow. "I shall show you that I know more than that."
"You—you—can't prove anything against me," stammered Monks. "I defy you to do it!"
"We shall see," returned the old gentleman with a searching glance. "I lost the boy, and no efforts of mine could recover him. Your mother being dead, I knew that you alone could solve the mystery if anybody could, and as when I had last heard of you you were on your own estate in the West Indies—whither, as you well know, you retired upon your mother's death to escape the consequences of vicious courses
