"You are my wife," he said. "Well, that is your secret--and mine. You
want to close my mouth," he said roughly. "And of course you can do
so--at a price."

"You want money in return for your silence?"

"Exactly, my dear girl. I am very sorry, but I have been a trifle
unfortunate in my speculations of late. I'm a financier now."

She looked him straight in the face, her resolution rising. She hated
that man whose hands were stained with the blood of Richard Harborne,
who had been such a platonic friend to her.

"I wish you to understand, now and at once," she said, "that you will
have nothing from me."

He smiled at her.

"Ah! I think you are just a little too hasty, my dear Jean," was his
reply. "Remember you are my wife, and that fact you desire to keep a
secret. Well, the secret is worth something, surely--even for the sake
of your charming little girl."

"Yes," she said angrily. "You taunt me with my position--why? Because
you want money--you, a thief and an assassin! No; you will have none. I
will go to the police and have you arrested."

"Do, my dear girl. I wish you would do so, because then your true
position as my wife will at once be plain. I shall not be Silas P.
Hoggan, homeless and penniless, but Ralph Ansell, husband of the wealthy
Countess of Bracondale. Say--what a sensation it would cause in the
halfpenny papers, wouldn't it?"

Jean shuddered, and shrank back.

"And you would be arrested for the murder of Richard Harborne--you, the
hired assassin of the Baron," she retorted. "Oh, yes, all is known, I
assure you. Not a year ago I found the report among Lord Bracondale's
papers, and read it--every word."

"And how does he like his private papers being peered into, I wonder?"

"Well, at least I now know the truth. You killed Mr. Harborne, and,
further, it was you who tampered with Lieutenant Barclay's aeroplane.
You can't deny it!"

"Why should I deny it? Harborne was your lover. You met him in secret at
Mundesley on the previous afternoon. Therefore I killed two birds with
one stone. A very alert secret agent was suppressed, and at the same
time I was rid of a rival."

"He was not my lover!" she protested, her cheeks scarlet. "I loved you,
and only you."

"Then why don't you love me now? Why not return and be a dutiful wife to
me?"

"Return!" she gasped. "Never!"

"But I shall compel you. You married this man, Bracondale, under false
pretences, and he has no right to you. I am your