“I understand,” I said gratefully.

“And there is no reason why he should not at once resume his real name.”

“No, of course not.”

“You know his real name?”

The question surprised me.

“Of course I do. Harry Lucas.”

He did not answer, and something in the quality of his silence struck me as peculiar.

“Anne, do you remember that, as we drove home from the Matoppos that day, I told you that I knew what I had to do?”

“Of course I remember.”

“I think that I may fairly say I have done it. The man you love is cleared of suspicion.”