"Look here," cried Morrison angrily, "I've had about enough of your family, so please finish your cigar and go." "Shan't. There, it's no use to twist about. I've come on purpose to sit upon you." "Look here," cried Morrison sternly, "has your sister sent you?" "No. I've come of my own free will, as I tell you, to show you what a fool you are, and to try and bring you to your senses." "You are very ready at calling people fools," said Morrison, biting his nails. "Well, don't you deserve to be called one for acting as you have acted? What did you do? Went mad after a woman who didn't care a _sou_ for you; neglected a dear, good girl who did care for you, and exposed her to the persecutions of a scoundrel who has no more principle than that." He snapped his fingers, and, instead of firing up with rage, Morrison turned his face away and smoked furiously. "Now, isn't that all true, Frank? Here, give me a light." Morrison lit a spill, passed it to his brother-in-law, and sank back in his chair. "I say," continued Dick, as he lit his cigar again, "isn't it (_puff_) quite (_puff_) true?" "I suppose so," said the other listlessly. "She never cared for me, though, Dick. That scoundrel and she were old flames." "First, a lie; second, true," said Dick quietly. "Renee is as good as gold; and when she found she was to be your wife, she accepted the inevitable and tried to do her duty, poor girl! She was already finding out what a bad one Malpas was." "Curse him! don't mention his name here!" cried Morrison savagely. "I say she was already finding out what a cursed scoundrel Malpas was when she married you." "She encouraged his visits afterwards," cried Morrison fiercely. "The villain owned it to me." "And you didn't thrust your fist down his throat?" Morrison got up and paced the room. "Look here, Frank, old fellow: you are beginning to find out what a donkey you have been. You are easy-going, and it's no hard job to lead you away. Now tell me this: didn't Malpas introduce you to a certain lady?" "Yes," was the sulky reply. "Of course," said Dick. "He takes you and moulds you like putty, introduces you to people so as to make your wife jealous, out of revenge for your supplanting him, and then tries to supplant you in turn." "Dick Millet," cried Morrison, "you mean well, but I can't bear this. Either be silent or go. If I think of the scene on that dreadful night when I was sent home by a note written by that scoundrel of a brother-in-law of yours--" "Meaning yourself?" said Dick coolly. "I mean that double-faced, double-lived, double-dyed traitor, John Huish." "What!" "The man who has fleeced me more than Malpas--curse him!--ever did." "Gently! I won't sit and hear John Huish maligned like that." "Maligned!" cried Morrison, with a bitter laugh. "As if anyone could say anything bad enough of the scoundrel!"