he had died yesterday the match would have been
broken off, as you know. I was prepared to take my chance. If this vile
thing had not happened, then I should have respected my wedding vows and
made you as good a wife as I could. I should have hated and loathed it,
but I should have become accustomed to it in time. But this vile action
of yours makes all the difference. When you and I part after this
painful conversation, we part for good. We shall be talked about; there
will be a lot of idle gossip, but I care nothing for that. And if you
raise a hand, if you try to use the law on your side, I produce that
telegram and tell my story."

Again the look of mingled rage and terror came into Richford's eyes.

"You talk like a fool," he said hoarsely. "What can you possibly do to
get a living? You are my wife; you can never marry anybody so long as I
am alive. You are very pretty, but you have been brought up to be
utterly useless."

"I have strength and courage," Beatrice replied, "and they are worth a
good deal. I can go into a shop if the worst comes to the worst. My
relatives, the Rashboroughs----"

"Lady Rashborough will turn her back on you if you do this. She will be
furious."

"Well, then, I must depend upon myself. But you are not going to say
anything--for some reason you are too frightened to say anything."

"And all the wedding presents, the diamonds and the like?" Richford
asked feebly.

"The wedding presents will go back to the senders. There is a plain
clothes policeman keeping guard over them now--your diamonds are amongst
the lot. I will see that they are safely sent to you. And I do not know
that I need say any more."

Beatrice had reached the corridor by this time. She was passing Richford
with her head in the air. It came to him suddenly that he had lost
everything, that he was baffled and beaten. In a sudden spasm of rage he
caught the girl by the shoulders in a savage grip. She gave a little
moan of pain as she looked around for assistance. It came quite
unexpectedly.

At the same moment Mark Ventmore was coming from his room. He took in
the situation at a glance. With one bound he was by Richford's side, and
he had wrenched his hands away. With a snarl Richford turned upon the
man whom he knew to be his successful rival, and aimed a blow at him.
Then Mark's fist shot out, and Richford crashed to the ground with a
livid red spot on his forehead. Sick and dizzy he scrambled to his feet.

"Yo