"I will not move," she moaned, desperately. "Let me go, I say."
Laurence started forward, trembling with indignation, but the man pushed him rudely aside.
"Don't interfere between husband and wife," he said, coldly. "I warn you it won't be safe. You know that, Syb, of old."
"What do you mean?" said Laurence. "Great heavens, Sybil, who is this man?"
She did not answer; in that moment all her duplicity and art failed; she could only moan and turn away her frightened face.
"I am Philip Yates, her husband," answered he. "I have brought my marriage certificate on purpose to prove it."
He took a paper from his pocket and gave it to Laurence, who read it with a confused idea of its import. At last he lifted a hand to his forehead.
"I must be insane," he faltered.
"No," returned Hinchley, "you are just coming back to your senses. That woman, Laurence, is the female I saw in California upon the night when I so narrowly escaped from the Valley Ranche with my life."