she replied hurriedly. 'Tell me who it is
you call Mrs. Rodman.'

'I don't _call_ her so. That's her married name. She's my sister.'

The door opened. Both turned their heads and saw Rodman. He had come
back for a letter he had forgotten to take with him to post At a glance
he saw everything, including the half-crown on the table, which 'Arry
instantly seized. He walked forward, throwing a murderous look at Clara
as he passed her. Then he said to 'Arry, in a perfectly calm voice--

'There's the door.'

'I see there is,' the other replied, grinning. 'Good-mornin', Mr. Rodman
Williamson.'

Husband and wife faced each other as soon as the front door slammed.
Clara was a tigress; she could not be terrified as Alice might have been
by scowls and savage threats. Rodman knew it, and knew, moreover, that
his position was more perilous than any he had been in for a long time.

'What do you know?' he asked quietly.

'Enough to send you to prison, Mr. Rodman. You can't do _quite_ what you
like! If there's law in this country I'll see you punished!'

He let her rave for a minute or two, and by that time had laid his
plans.

'Will you let me speak? Now I give you a choice. Either you can do as
you say, or you can be out of this country, with me and Jack, before
to-morrow morning. In a couple of hours I can get more money than
you ever set eyes on; I'll be back here with it'--he looked at his
watch--'by one o'clock. No, that wouldn't be safe either--that fellow
might send someone here by then. I'll meet you on Westminster Bridge,
the north end, at one. Now you've a minute to choose; he may have gone
straight away to the police station. Punish me if you like--I don't care
a curse. But it seems to me the other thing's got more common sense
in it I haven't seen that woman for a month, and never care to see her
again. I don't care over much for you either; but I do care for Jack,
and for his sake I'll take you with me, and do my best for you. It's
no good looking at me like a wild beast You've sense enough to make a
choice.'

She clasped her hands together and moaned, so dreadful was the struggle
in her between passions and temptations and fears. The mother's heart
bade her trust him; yet _could_ she trust him to go and return?

'You have the cunning of a devil,' she groaned, 'and as little heart!
Let you go, when you only want the chance of deserting me again!'

'You'll have to be quick,' he replied, holding his watch in h