stamped again like an infuriated bull. "If I had her here--I'd
strangle her!" he swore. "That brother of yours is an artist. He has
sketched her to the life--the she-devil!" His voice cracked and broke.
He was breathing like a man in torture. He swayed as he stood.

And still Monck remained passive, grim and cold and unyielding. "How
long is it since you married her?" he questioned at last.

"I tell you I never married her!" Desperately Dacre sought to recover
lost ground, but he had slipped too far.

"You told me that lie before," Monck observed in his even judicial
tones. "Is it--worth while?"

Dacre glared at him, but his glare was that of the hunted animal trapped
and helpless. He was conquered, and he knew it.

Calmly Monck continued. "There is not much doubt that she holds proof of
the marriage, and she will probably try to establish it as soon as she
is free."

"She will never get anything more out of me," said Dacre. His voice was
low and sullen. There was that in the other man's attitude that stilled
his fury, rendering it futile, even in a fashion ridiculous.

"I am not thinking of you." Monck's coldness had in it something brutal.
"You are not the only person concerned. But the fact remains--this woman
is your wife. You may as well tell the truth about it as not--since I
know."

Dacre jerked his head like an angry bull, but he submitted. "Oh well, if
you must have it, I suppose she was--once," he said. "She caught me when
I was a kid of twenty-one. She was a bad 'un even then, and it didn't
take me long to find it out. I could have divorced her several times
over, only the marriage was a secret and I didn't want my people to
know. The last I heard of her was that her name was among the drowned on
a wrecked liner going to America. That was six years ago or more; and I
was thankful to be rid of her. I regarded her death as one of the
biggest slices of luck I'd ever had. And now--curse her!"--he ended
savagely--"she has come to life again!"

He glanced at Monck with the words, almost as if seeking sympathy; but
Monck's face was masklike in its unresponsiveness. He said nothing
whatever.

In a moment Dacre took up the tale. "I've considered myself free ever
since we separated, after only six weeks together. Any man would. It was
nothing but a passing fancy. Heaven knows why I was fool enough to marry
her, except that I had high-flown ideas of honour in those days, and I
got drawn in. She never regarde