"I did hear that you were dead before Mr. Alpenny was murdered, and I then asked Miss Hall here to be my wife," confessed Vivian; "afterwards, Major Ruck told me that you were alive, but ill. I went to see you, and you really seemed to be dying----"
"I am a good actress, Vivian. I was on the stage, remember."
"So I thought, when I saw the doctor and got the certificate, that you were really and truly dead. Oh, I shall see that the doctor is punished for this deception."
"I think not," said Mrs. Paslow, narrowing her eyes and looking at him very directly. "No doubt he will be punished in time, but not by your will, Vivian dear."
The tone and words were so peculiar and significant that Beatrice looked straight at the woman, who now had a mocking smile on her face, and spoke quietly: "You have some power over Mr. Paslow?"
"Why not call him Vivian?" sneered the stranger. "He was"--she emphasised the word--"to be your husband, remember."
"If you speak like that," said Paslow standing over her and speaking in a low, angry voice, "I shall forget that I am your husband."
His wife glanced slightingly at Beatrice. "It seems to me that you have forgotten," she scoffed.
What the infuriated man would have said or done on the spur of the moment, it is impossible to say; but he was dangerous. Beatrice saw that, and drew him back with an exclamation. "Don't," she said quickly; "let her say what she will. It cannot hurt me. And let me remind you, Mrs. Paslow, that you have not answered my question."
"Nor do I intend to," said the woman, rising and throwing aside the cigarette. The contemptuous words of Beatrice stung her not a little. "This is my husband, and I want him to return to town with me."