"Five years ago, then," resumes Cora, "that gentleman there," motioning to Davlin, but never turning her face toward him, "came to me one day with the information that my dear husband was a rich man, thanks to some deceased old relative, and that his other wife was dead. For some reason this other marriage had been kept very secret, and my friend there argued that in case anything happened to Percy, I might come in as his widow, and claim his fortune. Well, Mr. Percy did not die, more's the pity. Instead of that he lived and squandered his money in less than three years. He was hurt, somehow, and a certain Mr. Philip Girard was falsely accused and convicted for attempted murder."
"Who was the real would-be assassin?" asked Madeline, sternly.
"Lucian Davlin," emphatically.
Madeline turns swiftly to Percy. "Mr. Percy, explain, if you wish to lighten your own burden, by what means did that man persuade you to let him go free?"
"By—threatening me with an action for—"
"Bigamy!" finished Cora.
The villain, bereft of all hope and courage, stood white and trembling, under the eyes of his accusers and judges.
"I am letting these people hear you tell these things because I want that man,"—pointing to John Arthur, who had long since collapsed into a big chair—"to hear all this from your own lips," says Madeline.
Turning again to Cora, she says:
"Lucian Davlin made use of the papers—the certificates you had stolen from Edward Percy—to intimidate that gentleman, and secure himself from danger. Am I correct?"