There was an appalling pause. A great struggle seemed to be going on in the man’s mind, and so there was, but he pretended that it was in his heart, but this was where he made a mistake. He overrated his gifts as an emotional actor. His shifty eyes prevented his being convincing. He turned his head away, and took out his handkerchief. Then he wheeled sharply round and spoke firmly.
“Mr. Wingfield, I’ve told you that I have no thought except for the happiness of my wife. I’ll take the money.”
“Will you indeed?” asked Jack, anxiously.
“I don’t want to stand between her and happiness. I will take the money,” said the visitor.
“I thought that you would decide in that way,” said Jack, “and I’ll pay it to you——”
“Never!” cried Priscilla, speaking for the first time.
“Thank you; that’s the word I was looking for,” said Jack. Then he turned to the man.
“Take yourself away from here, and look slippy about it, my good fellow,” he said. “You have shown yourself to be just what I guessed you were. But I don’t think that you can say so much for us: we’re not just the fools that you fancied, Mr. Blaydon. You thought you were a made man when you learned that the girl you had tricked once had fallen a victim to your second deception. You’ll need a bit of re-making before you can call yourself a man. How much better would our position be if you were to clear off without revealing the fact of your existence to anyone? Our marriage would be legally still no marriage. And you thought that in these circumstances we would hand you over a fortune. Now be off with you, you impudent blackmailer, and do your worst. We shall fight you, and get the better of you on all points. You may take that from me.”
“I have come for my wife, and I mean to have her. You allowed just now that she was my wife,” cried the man, weakly reverting to his original bluff.
“She refuses to go with you, Mr. Blaydon. How do you mean to effect your purpose?”