us to her. He caught her
wrist, and pulled her to the window. The only gas-lamp the Court
possessed shone through it on her white face. "Now--what's your * * *
married name?"

Aunt M'riar could not utter a word.

"I can tell you. You're that * * * young Polly, and your name's
Daverill. You're my lawful wife--d'ye hear?" He gave a horrible laugh.
"Why, I thought you was buried years ago!"

She began gasping hysterically:--"Leave me--leave me--you are nothing to
me now!" and struggled to free herself. Yet, inexpressibly dreadful as
the fact seemed to her, she knew that her struggle was not against the
grasp of a stranger. Think of that bygone time! The thought took all the
spirit out of her resistance.

He returned to his seat upon the table, drawing her down beside him.
"Yes, Polly Daverill," said he, "I thought you dead and buried, years
ago. I've had a rough time of it, since then, across the water." He
paused a moment; then said quite clearly, almost passionlessly:--"God
curse them all!" He repeated the words, even more equably the second
time; then with a rough bear-hug of the arm that gripped her
waist:--"What have _you_ got to say about it, hay? Who's your * * *
husband now? Who's your prizefighter?"

The terrified woman just found voice for:--"He's not my husband." She
could not add a word of explanation.

The convict laughed unwholesomely, beneath his breath. "_That's_ what
you've come to, is it? Pretty Polly! Mary the Maid of the Inn! The man
you've got is not your husband. Sounds like the parson--Holy Scripture,
somewhere! I've seen him. He's at the lush-ken down the road. Now you
tell the truth. When's he due back here?"

She had only just breath for the word seven, which was true. It was past
the half-hour, and he would not have believed her had she said sooner.
But it was as though she told him that she knew she was helplessly in
his power for twenty-five minutes. Helplessly, that is, strong
resolution and desperation apart!

"Then he won't be here till half-past. Time and to spare! Now you listen
to me, and I'll learn you a thing or two you don't know. You are
my--lawful--wife, so just you listen to me! Ah, would you?..." This was
because he had supposed that a look of hers askant had rested on a knife
upon the table within reach. It was a pointed knife, known as "the bread
knife," which Dolly was never allowed to touch. He pulled her away from
it, caught at it, and flung it away across the room.