"Well, what can I overhear—about you, at least—that I do not know already? In any case I could help you."
It was so arranged. Mrs. Wilders bade her servant introduce the stranger, and presently joined him in the adjoining room.
"Mr. Hyde," she began, composedly and very stiffly, "may I inquire the meaning of this intrusion? You are a perfect stranger—"
"Look well at me, Cyprienne Vergette. Have years so changed me—?"
"Rupert? Impossible!" she half-shrieked. "Rupert is dead. He died—was drowned—when—"
"You deserted him, and left him, you and your vile partner, falsely accused of a foul crime."
"I cannot—will not believe it. You are an impostor; you have assumed a dead man's name."
"My identity is easily proved, Cyprienne Vergette, and the relation in which I stand to you."
"What brings you here to vex me, after all these years? I always hated you. I left you—Why cannot you leave me in peace?"
"God knows I had no wish to see or speak to you again. The world was wide enough for us both. We should have remained for ever apart, but for your latest and foulest crime."