"You would not dare to adopt such stringent measures with me, after all the business that I have thrown into your hands," the woman said, sharply, but growing white about the mouth.
"My duty is just as obligatory to one client as to another. I am under as much obligation to carry out the conditions of Homer Forester's will as I am to be faithful to your interests," the lawyer replied, with inflexible integrity.
"Then you will no longer be faithful to me—you will transact no more business for me," Mrs. Montague asserted, with angry brow and compressed lips.
"Very well, if that is your decision I must submit to it," was the imperturbable response. "And now, madame, I ask you, once for all, to tell me the name of the man whom Mona Forester married?"
"I will not."
"Then let me tell you what conclusion I have drawn from what I have learned during this interview," said Mr. Corbin, as he leaned forward and looked straight into the woman's flashing eyes. "You have said you hated her because she ruined your life—because she loved the man you loved. You have refused to tell me the name of that man. You can have but one reason in thus withholding this information—that motive is fear; therefore, I infer that Mona Forester was the first wife of your husband—her child was your husband's daughter."
"Prove it, then!" cried his companion, with a scornful, though nervous, laugh. "Find the marriage certificate—find the witnesses who saw them married, the clergyman who performed the ceremony, the church register where their names are recorded, if you can."
"I believe they will be found in good time," confidently asserted Mr. Corbin, as he arose the second time to leave; "and, madame, if such proofs are found do you comprehend what the result will be? Not only will Mona Forester's child inherit the fortune left by Homer Forester, but also the bulk of your deceased husband's property."
"Never! for no one in this world can prove that Mona Forester was ever legally married, and—I defy you to do your worst," hoarsely cried Mrs. Montague, with lips that were almost livid, while she trembled visibly with mingled excitement, fear, and anger.
But the gentleman had no desire to discuss the matter further. He simply bade her a courteous good-evening, and then quietly left the house.