‘Why, what have I said?’ ‘You said to me my name. The pearls were really yours?" "They were left to me by my mother. " "Pray cease these compliments," returned Winifred, "and, if you have any communication to make, do not delay it. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. Mother? Suzanne Valade, her mother? With deliberation, he spoke. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions.
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