Barry smile a little.
"No," he answered. "The man she loves is Peter Mallory."
"Mallory!"—in blank astonishment. Then, swiftly and with a gleam of triumph in his eyes: "But he's married!"
"His wife has just died—out in India."
There was a long pause. Then:
"So that's why you came?" sneered Roger. "Well, you can tell Nan that she won't marry Peter Mallory with my consent. I'll never set her free to be another man's wife"—his dangerous temper rising again. "There's only one thing left to me in the world, and that's Nan. And I'll have her!"
"Is that your final decision?" asked Barry. He was beginning to recognise the hopelessness of any effort to turn or influence the man.
"Yes"—with a snarl. "Tell Nan"—derisively—"that I shall expect my truly devoted fiancée here this afternoon."