"Yes. Carlo Boldini is his real name. He is a fool if he thinks to escape with that money from me. But that reptile, his wife, is to blame for all that."
"How dare you use such language towards Mrs. Carson?" cried Mallow, indignantly.
"I am speaking of Clara Trall, my nephew's real wife. Miss Bellairs is not that."
"What--what do you----"
"I should advise you to take the oath, Mr. Mallow, and you may yet live to marry Miss Bellairs. Otherwise----" She shrugged, and opened the door.
Mallow tried to detain her, but she drew her dress gently from his grasp, and with a sudden dart was outside. Before he could fling himself after her the door was slammed to and locked.
The last communication of Madame was skilfully made. It left Mallow in a storm of mingled joy and grief.
For the next two days he thought and thought over his terrible position, and contrived a hundred ways to escape without having the resolution to attempt one. On the third day, at five o'clock, Rouge brought up his food. Mallow--who had almost given up hope of seeing him again--sprang forward with an exclamation of delight. Rouge laid a lean finger on his lips.
"Hush!" he whispered, glancing at the door, "we may be overheard. To-night you will be brought to the meeting at ten o'clock. Is it not so?"
"Yes, yes!" said Mallow. "Madame told me. But you will help----"