“Are you afraid?” asked Mrs. Lecount.
Those words roused him; those words lit a spark of the fire of manhood in him at last. He turned on her like a sheep on a dog.
“I won’t be questioned and ordered!” he broke out, trembling violently under the new sensation of his own courage. “I won’t be threatened and mystified any longer! How did you find me out at this place? What do you mean by coming here with your hints and your mysteries? What have you got to say against my wife?”
Mrs. Lecount composedly opened the traveling-bag and took out her smelling bottle, in case of emergency.
“You have spoken to me in plain words,” she said. “In plain words, sir, you shall have your answer. Are you too angry to listen?”
Her looks and tones alarmed him, in spite of himself. His courage began to sink again; and, desperately as he tried to steady it, his voice trembled when he answered her.
“Give me my answer,” he said, “and give it at once.”
“Your commands shall be obeyed, sir, to the letter,” replied Mrs. Lecount. “I have come here with two objects. To open your eyes to your own situation, and to save your fortune—perhaps your life. Your situation is this. Miss Bygrave has married you under a false character and a false name. Can you rouse your memory? Can you call to mind the disguised woman who threatened you in Vauxhall Walk? That woman—as certainly as I stand here—is now your wife.”
He looked at her in breathless silence, his lips falling apart, his eyes fixed in vacant inquiry. The suddenness of the disclosure had overreached its own end. It had stupefied him.
“My wife?” he repeated, and burst into an imbecile laugh.