“A worthy programme!” observed Frazer suavely. “You may attain the second part of your scheme, I admit, but the first seems to be difficult.”
“Is it? We shall see!”
Capella flourished his papers and began a passionate avowal of the “treachery” practised on him in the matter of Margaret’s parentage, ending by saying:
“That woman’s mother was the affianced bride of my father. She deceived him basely. On his death-bed he made me vow my lifelong hatred of her betrayer and all his descendants. To you, a cold-blooded Englishman, that perhaps means nothing. To me it is sacred, imperishable, dearer than life. And to think that I have been tricked into a marriage with the daughter of the man who was my father’s enemy. How mad I was not to make inquiries! What a poor, short-sighted fool! But I will have my revenge! I will expose your accursed race in the courts! I will not rest content until I am free from this snare!”
Margaret would have spoken, but her cousin quickly forestalled her.
“You bring two charges against your wife,” Robert said. “The first is that she deceived you before marriage; the second that she is deceiving you now. You contemplate taking divorce proceedings against her?”
“I do.”
“But you are lying on both counts. There is no purer or more honourable woman alive to-day than she who stands here at this moment. You are a mean and despicable hound to endeavour to take advantage of circumstances attending her birth of which she was in profound ignorance.”
“She can tell that to a judge,” sneered the Italian. “I know better.”
Robert rose, his face white with anger.