Both recoiled from each other in the first suddenness of the shock, and then an angry oath burst from John Glenalvan's lips. "I thought it was Elinor!" "Luckily you were mistaken," returned Mr. Chesleigh, quickly recovering his wits. "This _rencontre_ is most opportune for me, sir. I have wished to see you." He stepped into the room as he spoke, and boldly confronted the villain, who glared at him with a mixture of defiance and dismay. "You wished to see me. I feel flattered," he said, with an attempt at cutting sarcasm. "May I ask why?" There was a moment's silence while Bertram Chesleigh rapidly reviewed the situation in his mind. Then he spoke: "You may ask, and I may answer," he said. "Mr. Glenalvan, I might heap the bitterest reproach upon your head, if by so doing the cruel work of your life might be undone. But the past is past. My wife is dead, and no reproaches and no lamentations can bring her back to me. But there is one issue between you and me. I have taken up my dead wife's quest where she left it. I demand that you shall tell me where to find my little Golden's deeply-wronged mother." The dark face before him whitened to the awful pallor of death, the man's eyes blazed luridly, his hands were clenched as they hung at his sides. "What if I refuse to answer your question?" he inquired, in a low, tense voice. "I will find means to force you to confession," Bertram Chesleigh replied, unhesitatingly. "I defy you to do so," John Glenalvan replied, with an imprecation. "I am not afraid of you." "You have caused my wife's death, and nearly murdered her father. I will have you arrested for it," exclaimed Mr. Chesleigh. "Do so, and I will prove that I only acted in self-defense," was the instant reply. "I will charge you with the murder or abduction of Golden Leith, your own sister," pursued Mr. Chesleigh. "And I will swear before any court in the land that she is the inmate of a nameless house in New York," was the taunting answer of the villain. They gazed at each other a moment, then Bertram Chesleigh exclaimed, in wonder: "What a black and unnatural heart you must have, John Glenalvan. How can you thus malign the fair fame of your own sister?" "Do not call her my sister. I hated her, the blue-eyed, doll-faced creature. She stole the love of my parents from me. It was all lavished on her, there was none left for me. But I have had a most glorious revenge," he laughed, wickedly. "Yes, you have had a most terrible revenge," said Bertram Chesleigh, with a shudder. "You have blighted her life and that of her child. Four lives--perhaps five--have been ruined by your sin. Is it not time that vengeance should cease?" "No!" thundered John Glenalvan, harshly. "For sixteen years the taste of revenge has been sweet on my lips. It is sweet still." "And you will not speak?" asked Bertram Chesleigh. "Never!" with triumphant malice. "I have one card yet to play," began the other, slowly.