"His bankruptcy. Mr. Cassilis is ruined."
"Ruined! Mr. Cassilis!"
She was startled out of herself.
Ruined! The thought of such disaster had never once crossed her brains. Ruined! That Colossus of wealth—the man whom she married for his money, while secretly she despised his power of accumulating money!
"He is ruined, Mrs. Cassilis, and hopelessly. I have read certain papers which he put into my hands this morning. It is clear to me that his mind has been for some weeks agitated by certain anonymous letters which came to him every day, and accused you—pardon me, Mrs. Cassilis—accused you of—infidelity. The letters state that there is a secret of some kind connected with your former acquaintance with Mr. Colquhoun; that you have been lately in the habit of receiving him or meeting him every day; that you were in his chambers one evening when Mr. Cassilis called; with other particulars extremely calculated to excite jealousy and suspicion. Lastly, he was sent by the writer to Twickenham. The rest, I believe you know."
She made no reply.
"There can be no doubt, not the least doubt, that had your husband's mind been untroubled, this would never have happened. The disaster is due to his jealousy."
"I could kill her!" said Mrs. Cassilis, clenching her fist. "I could kill her!"
"Kill whom?"
"The woman who wrote those letters. It was a woman. No man could have done such a thing. A woman's trick. Go on."