“Act just as you like. I shall do as I think proper—you hear?”
“And you’ll take the risk? Very well,” I said. “You know the worst—prison.”
“And you don’t,” he laughed. “Otherwise you wouldn’t talk like a silly idiot. Mabel is my wife, and you’ve no say in the matter, so that’s enough for you,” he added insultingly. “Instead of trying to threaten me, it is I who have a right to demand why I find you here—with her.”
“I’ll tell you!” I cried angrily, my hands itching to give the impudent young blackguard a sound good hiding. “I’m here to protect her, because she is in fear of her life. And I shall remain here until you have gone.”
“But I’m her husband, therefore I shall stay,” sneered the fellow, perfectly unmoved.
“Then she leaves with me,” I said decisively.
“I’ll not allow that.”
“You will act just as I think proper,” I exclaimed. Then, turning to Mabel, who had remained white, silent and trembling, in fear lest we should come to blows, I said, “Put on your hat and coat at once. You must return to London with me.”
“She shall not!” he cried, unflinchingly. “If my curses could blast yer you’d have ’em thick.”
“Mabel,” I said, taking no notice of the ruffian’s words, but drawing back to allow her to pass out, “please get your coat. I have a fly waiting outside.”