‘I should rather think so,’ said Villiers, insolently, advancing into the room; ‘I don’t look like a dead man, do I?’ Madame Midas sprang forward and caught his wrist. ‘So you have come back, murderer!’ she hissed in his ear. ‘What do you mean?’ said her husband, wrenching his hand away. ‘Mean?’ she cried, vehemently; ‘you know what I mean. You cut yourself off entirely from me by your attempt on my life, and the theft of the gold; you dare not have showed yourself in case you received the reward of your crime; and so you worked in the dark against me. I knew you were near, though I did not see you; and you for a second time attempted my life.’ ‘I did not,’ muttered Villiers, shrinking back from the indignant blaze of her eyes. ‘I can prove--’ ‘You can prove,’ she burst out, contemptuously, drawing herself up to her full height, ‘Yes! you can prove anything with your cowardly nature and lying tongue; but prove that you were not the man who came in the dead of night and poisoned the drink waiting for me, which was taken by my nurse. You can prove--yes, as God is my judge, you shall prove it, in the prisoner’s dock, e’er you go to the gallows.’ During all this terrible speech, Villiers had crouched on the ground, half terrified, while his wife towered over him, magnificent in her anger. At the end, however, he recovered himself a little, and began to bluster. ‘Every man has a right to a hearing,’ he said, defiantly, looking from his wife to Calton; ‘I can explain everything.’ Madame Midas pointed to a chair. ‘I have no doubt you will prove black is white by your lying,’ she said, coldly, returning to her seat; ‘I await this explanation.’ Thereupon Villiers sat down and told them the whole story of his mysterious disappearance, and how he had been made a fool of by Vandeloup. When he had ended, Calton, who had resumed his seat, and listened to the recital with deep interest, stole a glance at Madame Midas, but she looked as cold and impenetrable as ever. ‘I understand, now, the reason of your disappearance,’ she said, coldly; ‘but that is not the point. I want to know the reason you tried to murder me a second time.’ ‘I did not,’ returned Villiers, quietly, with a gesture of dissent. ‘Then Selina Sprotts, since you are so particular,’ retorted his wife, with a sneer; ‘but it was you who committed the crime.’ ‘Who says I did?’ cried Villiers, standing up. ‘No one,’ put in Calton, looking at him sharply, ‘but as you had a grudge against your wife, it is natural for her to suspect you, at the same time it is not necessary for you to criminate yourself.’ ‘I am not going to do so,’ retorted Villiers; ‘if you think I’d be such a fool as to commit a crime and then trust myself to my wife’s tender mercies, you are very much mistaken. I am as innocent of the murder as the poor girl who is in prison.’ ‘Then she is not guilty?’ cried Mrs Villiers, rising. ‘No,’ returned Villiers, coldly, ‘she is innocent.’