"Very well. You have conceded one point."
He walked quietly to the door of the adjoining room, opened it, and in a distinct voice called "James Travers."
At the sound of this name Squire Haynes sank into a chair, ashy pale.
A man, not over forty, but with seamed face, hair nearly white, and a form evidently broken with ill health, slowly entered.
Squire Haynes beheld him with dismay.
"You see before you, Squire Haynes, a man whose silence has been your safeguard for the last twelve years. His lips are now unsealed. James Travers, tell us what you know of the trust reposed in this man by my father,"
"No, no," said the squire hurriedly. "It--it is enough. I will make restitution."
"You have done wisely," said Richard Waring. (We must give him his true name.) "When will you be ready to meet me upon this business?"