Mrs Gabriel put her hand to her forehead, and reeled to the end of the room. "Wife—wife!" she muttered. "Then I am not—"
"You are not his wife," finished Mrs Jeal, coolly. "You never were his wife, seeing he was married to me before he met you. You are Mrs Gabriel, the widow of John Gabriel, and the possessor of this property."
"Can you—can you prove this?" asked the other woman, gasping.
"I'll give you my marriage certificate for a thousand pounds," said Mrs Jeal. "I don't want it. I've had enough of Pratt. Then you can see the church where we were married, and search the register. Oh, it's all right."
"Give me the certificate," Mrs Gabriel stretched out her hand eagerly.
"Not without the thousand pounds," said Mrs Jeal, resolutely.
"I'll give you a cheque," said Mrs Gabriel, hurrying to a writing-desk.
Mrs Jeal shook her head. "Won't do!" she remarked. "I've had to do with ladies before. You might stop that cheque when I had given you what you wanted. No. Come to the bank; give me the money in notes, and I'll place the certificate in your hands."
"We can't go to the bank to-night," said Mrs Gabriel, frowning.
"Oh! I can wait till to-morrow," replied Mrs Jeal, coolly.