"As for the rest, Frank utterly denies having had any connection with Wolff. And, I should like to know, Gertrude--you were always a reasonable woman--why have you taken it into your head to believe that old ass who was always known as a scoundrel, rather than your husband?"
Gertrude quickly put her hand in her pocket and grasped the letter--there was her proof. She made a motion to give it to him--but no, she could not do it, she could not bring out the small hand that had closed tightly over the fatal paper.
"You ought both of you to give way a little, I think," said Uncle Henry after awhile. "You are married now, and--au fond--what if he did inquire about your fortune?"
Her frowning glance stopped him.
"Now-a-days it is not such a wonderful thing if a man--" he stammered on.
"It is not that, it is not that, uncle! Stop, I beg of you!" cried Gertrude.
"Oh yes, I understand, women are more sensitive in such matters, and justly too," assented Uncle Henry. "Well, I fear the name of Baumhagen will be the talk of the town again for the next six months. Goodbye, Gertrude. I can't exactly say I have enjoyed my visit. Don't be too lonely."
At the door he turned back again.
"You know it will come before the courts. Frank refuses to recognize the claims of the fellow Wolff."
She shook her head.