“By the common right every man has to shield an unprotected and persecuted woman,” I replied, firmly. “I know you, and am well aware of your shameful past. Shall I recall one incident, that, now you attempt to defy me, you appear to have conveniently forgotten? Do you not recollect a certain night in the park at Mayvill not so very long ago, and do you not recollect that you there attempted to commit a foul and brutal murder—eh?”
He started quickly, then glared at me with the fire of a murderous hatred in his eyes.
“She’s told you, damn her! She’s given me away!” he exclaimed, with a contemptuous glance at his trembling wife.
“No, she has not,” was my response. “I myself chanced to be witness of your dastardly attempt upon her. It was I who succeeded in rescuing her from the river. For that action of yours you must now answer to me.”
“What do you mean?” he inquired, and from the lines in his countenance I saw that my outspoken manner caused him considerable uneasiness.
“I mean that it is not for you to attempt defiance, having regard to the fact that, had it not been for the fortunate circumstance of my presence in the park, you would to-day be a murderer.”
He shrank at that final word. Like all his class, he was arrogant and overbearing to the weak, but as easily cowed by firmness as a dog who cringes at his master’s voice.
“And now,” I continued, “I may as well tell you that, on the night when you would have killed this poor woman who is your victim, I also overheard your demands. You are a blackmailer—the meanest and worst type of criminal humanity—and you seem to have forgotten that there is a severe and stringent law against such an offence as yours. You demanded money by threats, and on refusal made a desperate endeavour to take your wife’s life. In the assize court the evidence I could give against you would put you into a term of penal servitude—you understand? Therefore I’ll make this compact with you; if you will promise not to molest your wife further, I will remain silent.”
“And who the deuce are you, pray, to talk to me in this manner—like a gaol chaplain on his weekly round!”
“You’d better keep a civil tongue, fellow, and just reflect upon my words,” I said. “I’m no man for argument. I act.”