It came into his troubled mind that he was in a position to put an effectual stop to his wife's being advertised further as a public entertainer. His brain began to work clearly along this line. She was either legally his wife, or a bigamist. In either case, if he kept his head, he would have the whip-hand. If she acknowledged the legality of their marriage, then the law would give him control over her movements--to an extent at least. Until she instituted proceedings for a separation she must obey him. If the marriage had been a farce because of a former marriage on her part, then his hold upon her would be stronger still. If she refused to retire from the stage and live in seclusion, he would prosecute her and put her in jail. This thought gave him untold satisfaction for the moment; then it horrified him. His wife--Ruth--the woman he loved--in jail! What an awful experience it would be for her. Her tender body to recline on a hard cot and be subjected to the strict rules of a prison, and to exist on jail fare! Then he hardened his heart. She was no wife of his--only in name in any case. She had cajoled him and fooled him and ruined him. She should be made to suffer as he was suffering now. He suddenly awoke to a stir in the audience. The orchestra burst forth into a new melody and the crowd began to applaud. Who were they welcoming? Ryder raised his eyes from the program which was merely a blur of names to him and looked straight into the face of the woman who had come from the wings and was now bowing an acknowledgment to her welcome. It was "Miss Mont, England's most famous entertainer." For an instant he believed she was looking straight at him--that she must see and give him some sign of greeting. He forgot the glare of the footlights in the actor's eyes which makes the entire auditorium a magnified blur of faces and forms, and seldom allows the person on the stage to descry clearly a particular face in the audience. His eyes devoured her as though he had never seen her before. She was neither the woman she had seemed aboard the _Minnequago_, nor as she had seemed in their suite at the Pinewood Inn. Plainly dressed aboard ship, the beauty of her face and figure had been suggested rather than displayed. It was her brightness of mind that had most deeply impressed John Ryder during the voyage. Afterward, during their short wedded intercourse, her sweetness of disposition and lovely personality had charmed and held him in her toils. How sweet she had looked in the dressing sack which revealed her neck and arms, bustling about the room unpacking her trunks. And now this was still another woman--a third personality. The beauty of face and form was enhanced by her costume; but it was a cold and formal beauty; not the living, breathing, loving creature whom he had folded in his arms. Nor did she seem the same woman he had talked and walked with on the steamship's deck.