"Did your grandmother get you word about the police?" Maggie asked
with suppressed excitement as soon as they were seated.
"Yes. She came out here about midnight."
"Then why, while you still had time, didn't you get farther away from
New York than this?"
"If I'm to be caught, I'm to be caught; in the meantime, this is as
safe a place as any other for me. Besides, I wanted to have at least
one more talk with you--after something new grandmother told me about
you."
"Something new about me?" echoed Maggie, startled by his grave tone.
"What?"
"About your father," he said, watching closely for the effect upon her
of his revelations.
"What about my father? What's he been doing that I don't know about?"
"You do not know a single thing that your father has done."
"What!"
"Because you do not know who your father is."
"What!" she gasped.
"Listen, Maggie. What I'm going to tell you may seem unbelievable, but
you've got to believe it, because it's the truth. I can see that you
have proofs if you want proofs. But you can accept what I tell you as
absolute facts. You are by birth a very different person from what you
believe yourself. Your father is not Jimmie Carlisle. And your mother--"
"Larry!" She tensely gripped his arm.
"Your mother was of a good family.
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