Although he was opposed to three people at once--the old lady, Tom, and Mr Trump, the former of whom piled Pelion on Ossa in her wrath, Markworth kept his temper admirably. He seemed to pride himself on the successful issue of his scheme, and related each step he had taken with an air of ill-concealed triumph. The dowager was furious, but her hot-tempered words appeared to have little or no effect on the man who now proclaimed himself the husband of her daughter, a neglect of which daughter by herself and her cruelty, he stated, led to his success. Rages are all very well in their way, but the dowager's anger was powerless here, so Markworth bore off the palm of victory against the triple odds against which he had contested it. The only time that he appeared to be affected by all that was said against him, was when Tom addressed him pointedly and coldly with the stern truth, which he could not dispute. He then turned pale. "You have done a dishonourable action, sir," said Tom. "I treated you and trusted you as a gentleman and a friend, and you have abused that trust. I--I never thought you would have acted like it; and, apart from the injury you have done us, I am sorry for it, for you have hurt my faith in a man's honour." Tom really felt it thus. "I can't excuse myself," answered Markworth, "but I have done good to your sister instead of harm. I have brought her back to her reason, instead of letting her remain a hopeless idiot, as she would have done if I had not drawn her out; and I'll say this, it was not all for the sake of her money I did it. I was really, so help me heaven I interested in her case, and trusted to cure her honestly." "You need not swear any more false oaths to me," answered Tom; "I don't desire to speak to you again, or see you again as long as I live." "Very well," said Markworth, "so be it. But all I have to say is this, that if you wish to take back your sister you are free to do so; if she likes to go, I will not prevent her. As for you, madam," he said, turning politely to Mrs Hartshorne, and bowing, "I have placed the matter in the hands of my solicitor, for I am determined to get the fortune to which my wife is entitled." "You'll not get a penny, rogue," retorted the dowager (barometer 28 degrees 64!) "not if there's any law in the land." "We will see, madam." "Hark you, sir," said Mr Trump, having his say, of which he had been sadly deprived all the time the dowager was going on. "Hark you, sir, we can find the girl was of unsound mind, as I told you before, and have you indicted for a conspiracy." "That we will!" echoed the dowager, "and have you on the treadmill, villain!" Mrs Hartshorne had somewhat vague notions of the power of that large word in capitals--Law, and seemed to think that its obvious bent in any case, especially one like the present, was the treadmill.