"Acknowledge you ... what?"
"As your wife!" stormily.
Again he laughed. "You are not my wife, and never have been."
"And how will you prove it?"
"That will be easy. Curious old world, isn't it? I thought, when I received your note, that nothing would satisfy me but to wring your neck. And all I want is a kiss ... because I'm sure it would poison you! I know. You have in that head of yours schemes for my humiliation, scandal, and all that. A woman, known as The Yellow Typhoon, claiming to be the wife of one Robert Hallowell, rampaging the office, storming the villa gate, getting interviewed. No, Berta, it isn't going to happen at all. On the contrary, you will leave Manila on the first ship out."
"And if I refuse?"
"Bilibid prison. While we are very busy militarily, our civil courts have plenty of time to try a prime case of bigamy. War? You will jolly well find out!"
"Bigamy!"
"Sure. Lieutenant Graham is dead, and I had charge of his effects. I found some interesting letters. These led me to the Protestant Episcopal cathedral, where your name and his were neatly inscribed on the register ... six months before you laid your trap for me. You found, after you had married him, that he wasn't the Graham who had inherited a fortune. Marriage! It seems to be a mania with you. How many of us poor devils have you rooked with your infernal beauty? What's God's idea, anyhow? Or is it the devil himself who fits you out, covers your black heart with alluring flesh? No matter. The first ship out or Bilibid. I have warned you."