“I’ll tell Mr Glyddyr himself, ma’am, please. Stand aside. I don’t want to be rude, but I’ve got my duty to do, and do it I will.”
He passed Claude sharply, brushing against her arm, and seized the thick door to draw it open, while the thought flashed through her brain—
“I am his wife. I prayed for a way to win his love—to give him mine. This man will arrest him, and I must save him if I can.”
Without pausing to consider as to the folly of her impulse, she turned on the man as he threw open the door and bent forward, and, thrusting with all her might, she sent him staggering in.
The door closed upon him with a loud clang.
“He is my husband,” panted Claude, mad with dread and excitement. “O Heaven help me! what has he done?”
At that moment, wild with jealous rage and doubt, Glyddyr came into the room, and ended, as she clung to him, speechless with emotion, by striking her savagely with such force as he possessed.
Claude uttered a low moan, and fell insensible across the entrance to the safe; while, after wrenching out the key, Glyddyr hurried panting from the library, closed and locked the door, and stood thinking.
“Yes,” he said, with a malignant look; “I’ll do that. Witnesses—witnesses! They shall all know.”
He crossed the hall to the drawing-room, and dragged at the bell so violently that, as he returned, the servants came hurrying through the swing-door.