‘I do not believe one word of what you say! I believe it is an infamous falsehood. But whether it is true or false, I shall never forgive you in this world for the words you have spoken to me to-night.’
‘I have only done my duty, Alma!’ returned Sir George, uneasily, moving as he spoke towards her and reaching out his arms to support her. ‘My poor child—courage! George and I will protect and save you.’
Hereupon Mephistopheles junior uttered a sullen half-audible murmur, which was understood to be a solemn promise to punch the fellow’s head—yes, smash him—on the very earliest opportunity!
‘Don’t touch me!’ exclaimed Alma. ‘Don’t approach me! What is your authority for this cruel libel on Mr. Bradley? You talk of punishment. It is you that will be punished, be sure of that, if you cannot justify so shameful an accusation.’
The two men looked at each other. If, after all, the ground should give way beneath them! But it was too late to draw back or temporise.
‘Tell her, father,’ said George, with a prompting look.
‘You ask our authority for the statement,’ replied the baronet. ‘My dear Alma, the thing is past a doubt. We have seen the—the person.’
‘The person? What person?’
‘Bradley’s wife!’
‘He has no wife but me,’ cried Alma. ‘I love him—he is my husband!’