"So you will persist in trying to bluff it out? Foolish Cyril! Don't you realise that I hold all the cards and that I am quite clever enough to use them to the best advantage? You see, knowing you as I do, I am convinced that the motive which led you to sacrifice both truth and honour is probably as praiseworthy as it is absurd. But having made such a sacrifice, why are you determined to render it useless? I cannot believe that you are willing to face the loss not only of your own reputation but of that of the young person who has accepted your protection. How do you fancy she would enjoy figuring as corespondent in a divorce suit?"
Cyril felt as if he were caught in a trap.
"My God," he cried, "you wouldn't do that! I swear to you that she is absolutely innocent. She was in a terrible situation and to say that she was my wife seemed the only way to save her. She doesn't even know I am married!"
"Really? And have you never considered that when she finds out the truth, she may fail to appreciate the delicacy which no doubt prevented you from mentioning the trifling fact of my existence? It is rather funny that your attempts to rescue forlorn damsels seem doomed to be unsuccessful! Or were your motives in this case not quite so impersonal as I fancied? Has Launcelot at last found his Guinevere? If so, I may yet be avenged vicariously."
"Your presence is punishment enough, I assure you, for all the sins I ever committed! But come to the point. What exactly is it that you are threatening me with?"
"Publicity, that is all. If neither you nor this woman object to its being known that you travelled together as man and wife, then I am powerless."
"But you have just acknowledged that you know that our relation is a harmless one," cried Cyril.
"I do not know it—but—yes, I believe it. Do you think, however, that any one else will do so?"
"Surely you would not be such a fiend as to wreck the life of an innocent young girl?"
"If her life is wrecked, whose fault is it? Not mine, at all events. It was you who by publicly proclaiming her to be your wife, made it impossible for her disgrace to remain a secret. Don't you realise that even if I took no steps in the matter, sooner or later the truth is bound to be discovered? Now I—and I alone—can save you from the consequences of your folly. If you will agree not to divorce me, I promise not only to keep your secret, but to protect the good name of this woman by every means in my power."