"How should I know?"
"Well, I'll tell you at least who he is not. He is not the Marquis of St. Burden. When he told his wife that he was he lied to her, as he has lied before, and as he will probably lie again."
"How do you know that he told his wife he was? At least, she has not told you."
"Very probably not. But still I know. Perhaps I learned it from you in your delirium."
Murkard groaned. The man's possession of this secret was the very thing he had feared.
"Now, supposing in addition to telling Ellison who you are, I tell her who he is not—what would you say?"
"I should say you were the most inhuman wretch that ever trod God's earth, and it would be the truth. Don't you know—haven't you seen that that woman worships the very ground he treads on, that she believes every word that falls from his lips? Would you shatter her happiness and trust forever, at one blow, and only to gratify your own miserable ends?"
"Yes, do you know, now I think of it, I even believe I should. But you seem to forget that it would be you who had driven me to it. If you go away it will be to my interest not to tell her. I wish to remain on good terms with both of them until my business here is accomplished. Will you go?"
"Yes; I will go."
"When?"