not believe one word
you say. Why should I believe anything merely upon your authority, when I
know, from all experience, that you have not the slightest respect for the
truth? You told a falsehood in the church. You said you had never been in
California in all your life, and had never before set eyes on the woman
who claimed to be your wife. Now, then!"

"I was taken utterly by surprise, as you know--shocked out of my usual
self-possession. It was a false move to have denied all knowledge of the
Wild Cat. I am ashamed of the false move, but not of the falsehood, in
your presence. By the powers, madam! why should I be? I only tell a
falsehood. You live one! But come. Don't let us go on complimenting each
other in this absurd style. It is so very unprofitable. You do not believe
the statement that I have made to you?"

"Why should I believe it merely upon your word?"

"You want proof?"

"I want nothing from you, Angus Anglesea, but your adieus. I should very
much like to receive them."

"Really, Friday, you are very reckless. You are playing with edge tools,
if you did but know it. Ah, well! I have only to give you proof of the
power that I possess over your daughter Odalite to bring you to your
knees, madam."

With these insolent words, the man drew a portmonnaie from his pocket,
opened it, took out a slip cut from an English newspaper and handed it to
her.

With a proud, disdainful smile she took it and read:

"Died.

"Suddenly, at Anglewood Manor, on August twenty-fifth, in the forty-ninth
year of her age, Lady Mary, eldest daughter of the late and sister of the
present Earl of Middlemoor, and wife of Col. the Hon. Angus Anglesea,
H.E.I.C.S."

She returned the slip to the man without a comment.

"Well, madam, what do you think of that?" he inquired.

"I think the poor lady most fortunate in her death, since it freed her
from you."

"Thanks, very many. I have kept this little slip, not with the least idea,
not with the faintest prevision, that I should ever have this need of it.
Nor have I cherished it in tender memory of the dear departed. By no
means. I have kept it to gloat over it, as a slave might over his 'free
papers.' And I have gloated over the words that gave me liberty.
'Died'--'Lady Mary Anglesea.' What a pleasure it is to read over these
words!"

"Oh! Oh!" groaned Elfrida Force, wringing her hands. "I think the worst
punishment in hell must be the society of devils!"

"Ten thousand th