“Yes. I am the husband of that wretched woman.”
“Well, is the fact that a woman faints evidence against her?”
“Don’t trifle with me, sir. I have followed you here. I knew she had an appointment with some one this morning. I watched and have found her in her guilt.”
“In the house of the blackmailer known as the Brown Robin?” sneered Nick.
At this moment the pretended Mrs. Ansel opened her eyes, started up, and cried out:
“My husband! I am ruined!”
Again she toppled off into a faint.
“I suppose this is a well-worked game?” said Nick. “Well, play it to the end. How much do you want? Make it as easy as you can. I can’t afford much, but I can’t afford a scandal about my name.”
As he said this, Nick carefully watched the Brown Robin, and was certain he saw first a look of surprise and then of triumph on what was supposed to be an unconscious face.
“Money,” cried the man, “I want no money. Would money restore my wretched home, my happiness, the mother of my children?”