so, Eden, in annoyance at the intrusion, moved back, and
Usselex, with a query on his tongue, turned to him. But before the
latter could frame his words, Maule had spoken.

"Mr. Usselex," he said, with the air of one ventilating a conventional
platitude, "are you aware that a man who insults a woman is a coward?"

At this speech Eden's hands fluttered like falling leaves; she made as
would she speak, but Usselex motioned to her to be silent, and flicking
a speck of dust from his sleeve as though the speck represented the
reproof, he answered in a tone as conventional as Maule's. "And are you
aware, sir, that a man who permits himself to interfere between husband
and wife is--"

But whatever he may have intended to say, the sentence remained
unfinished. Maule did not wait for its completion. He advanced yet
nearer to where Usselex stood, he looked him in the face, and without
raising his voice, he said: "This lady, Mr. Usselex, is not your wife,
nor are you her husband." Then, turning to Eden, he added with the grace
of a knight-errant, "Miss Menemon, allow me to present my
congratulations."

The old legends tell of disputants ossified by one glance of Jove's
avenging stare; and when Maule made his melodramatic announcement, both
Usselex and Eden stood transfixed and motionless with surprise. Of the
little group Maule alone preserved any semblance of animation. The palms
of his hands were moist, and he felt unable to control one of the
muscles of his face. But his emotion was not apparent. Outwardly he was
perfectly self-possessed, and admonished by that instinct which at times
warns us that every trace of feeling should be disguised, he succeeded
in heightening the illusion by means of his moustache, to which he
proceeded to give a negligent twirl.

And as he twirled it Eden seemed to recover from her stupor. To her
face, which had been blanched, the color returned. In her eyes came a
gleam as from a reflection caught from without. Her lips moved, and she
glanced from accuser to accused. And as she glanced, dumb and
ineffectual of speech, Mr. Menemon crossed the room.

"What is it you say?" he asked.

It was evident at once that of the scene--which if long in the telling
had in reality not outlasted a moment--he had stood as witness.

"What is it you say?" he repeated.

"I say that this man is a bigamist." And as Maule spoke he tossed his
head as though inviting possible contradiction. "I say," he continued,