So now, when the rapping on her bed-room door aroused her, she rose mechanically, still drugged with sleep, made her way blindly to the door, and unlocked it. As she opened her door so that Hattie could enter and draw her morning bath, the sight of the coloured woman’s agitated features startled her. Suddenly a glimpse of Graydon in the living-room beyond brought the girl to her shocked senses. There seemed to be another man there, too--a fat, bald, bland little man who smiled and bowed to her, flourished a straw hat, clapped it on his shiny head, and immediately waddled out of the apartment. For one dreadful moment a premonition of disaster paralysed the girl, blanched her face. Then she walked straight into the living-room where her husband slouched against the mantel, his hands in his pockets, an unlighted cigarette sagging over his chin. “Get out of this house!” she said in a low voice that quivered. “Send that wench of yours to the kitchen,” he retorted coolly. Suddenly something about this man frightened her. It was a vague, formless fear. But it was fear. She felt the chill of it. “Will you leave this house?” she managed to say. “You listen to me first.” Again a swift, indefinite fear silenced her. Danger was written all over this man. What menaced her she did not know, had no vaguest guess. But never before had she looked into eyes so perilous. When she found her voice: “You may start breakfast, Hattie,” she said. “Start some for me, too,” added Graydon, without removing his gaze from Eris. And, when the lingering servant had gone, reluctant, perplexed, still loitering in the dining-room devoured by curiosity, Graydon said quietly: “Eris, I want you back! That’s what’s the matter. Take me back. You won’t be sorry.” “Who was that man who came here?” she demanded. “He needn’t matter--if you’ll give me a chance to make good----” “I want you to tell me who that man was!” “Answer _me_! Will you take me----” “No! Now, who was he?” “My lawyer,” he said, “--if that interests you.” “Did you telephone for him, or was it already arranged?” “If you’ll listen to me----” “Answer me!” “I called him up.... I hope I shan’t need him----” “Are you threatening me with scandal because I let you sleep here last night?” “There’s no scandal--as long as you _are_ my wife----” “How long,” said she, “do you suppose I shall remain married to an ex-convict?” Graydon laughed, fished in his soiled vest for a match, lighted his cigarette: “You’ve condoned whatever I’ve done, Eris,” he said. “What!” “You’ve no case. You’ve condoned my offence. I guess you’ll have to remain married to me, Eris.” For a full minute she failed to understand, watching him intently, searching for the sinister import of his words. Suddenly her face flushed scarlet. The hideous thing confronted her. “You see,” he said coolly, “you can’t afford to face a jury, now.” “I see,” she said. “You have two witnesses. Also, _you_ have nothing to lose, have you!”