"Oh, you have found your tongue at last, have you?" cried Jim, striding over to the trembling coward. "I wonder why I don't throw you out of the window."
"This violence--this insult----" panted the man.
"Oh, don't be afraid; I'm not going to make a mess of you just yet. How dare you call Miss Bellairs your wife?"
"I--I was married to her."
"You were--under a false name, to rob her of her money. Perhaps you are not aware that such a marriage is void. Miss Bellairs is not your wife; her money is not yours. I am going to give you the chance of handing it over. Take it, or go to gaol like the swindler you are."
"How dare you call him a swindler?" said Clara, savagely.
"Because I like to call things by their right names. It's a case of speaking by the book. I know all about your Anarchist schemes, and Madame Death-in-Life, Drabble, Rouge, and all the rest of the gang. However, I didn't come here to waste breath on either of you. You come along with me, Carson, or Boldini, or whatever else you choose to call yourself."
"Where do you want me to go?" whimpered the wretched creature, looking up at the towering figure of Aldean.
"To my hotel. Come along, up with you!"
Clara dashed to the bell. "I'll call the landlord and have you turned out!" she said viciously. "You can't bully us!"