husband."

"That I cannot deny," she said, her hands twitching nervously. "But I
read of your death in the papers, and believed it to be true," she added
in despair.

"Well, you seem to have done extremely well for yourself. And you have
been living in London all the time?"

"Mostly."

"I was in London very often. I have seen your name in the papers dozens
of times as giving great official receptions and entertainments, yet I
confess I never, for a moment, dreamed that the great Countess
Bracondale and my wife, Jean, were one and the same person."

She shrank at the word "wife." That surely was the most evil day in all
her life. She was wondering how best to end that painful interview--how
to solve the tragic difficulty which had now arisen--how best to hide
her dread secret from Bracondale.

"Well," she said at last, "though you married me, Ralph, you never had a
spark of affection for me. Do you recollect the last night that I was
beneath your roof--your confession that you were a thief, and how you
raised your hand against me because I begged you not to run into danger.
How----?"

"Enough!" he interrupted roughly. "The past is dead and gone. I was a
fool then."

"But I remember it all too well, alas!" she said. "I remember how I
loved you, and how full and bitter was my disillusionment."

"And what do you intend doing now?" he asked defiantly.

"Nothing," was her reply. Truth to tell, she was nonplussed. She saw no
solution of the ghastly problem.

"But I want money," he declared, fiercely.

"I have none--only what my husband gives me."

"Husband! I'm your husband, remember. I tell you, Jean, I don't intend
to starve. I may be well dressed, but that's only bluff. I've got only a
few pounds in the world."

"I see," she said. "You intend to blackmail me. But I warn you that if
those are your tactics, I shall simply tell Bracondale what I know
concerning Richard Harborne."

"You will--will you!" he cried, fiercely, advancing towards her
threateningly. "By Heaven, if you breathe a word about that, I--_I'll
kill you_!"

And in his eyes shone a bright, murderous light--a light that she had
seen there once before--on the night of her departure.

She recognised how determined he was, and drew back in fear.

Then, placing his hand in his jacket pocket, he drew forth a small
leather wallet, much worn, and from it took a soiled, crumpled but
carefully-preserved letter, which he opened and presented for