“What have I done to you?” he demanded savagely. Then his tone changed, and a sneering smile came over his pale face. “I forgot that you were her lover,” he sneered. “But here is her liberty,” tossing the divorce at Conway’s feet. “Take it, in God’s name, and hers.” Lester Conway paid no attention to the paper lying at his feet. He was very quiet, only that grim smile had returned to his lips. “I forgot,” he said, “to give you my letter of introduction;” and he threw Peter’s note on the desk. “Perhaps when you read it you will understand.” Elwell took the note, and as he glanced at it he staggered back, with a bitter curse; then he resumed his place at the desk, and buried his face in his hands. Conway waited a moment for him to speak, but he maintained a sullen silence. “Miss Morain and her father have been sent for; they will be here this afternoon,” he said sternly, at last: “and you will meet your dupes at Coleman’s office. The warrant is already out for your arrest, but we will leave you at liberty until they come.” Still there was no answer, only the head seemed to writhe a little as it lay on the desk. “Do not attempt to escape,” resumed Conway; “for it is impossible.” And again he waited for some sign of reply; but none came. Conway looked at him, and for a moment that hard, stern look left his face. “I am sorry for you,” he said; “sorry for any man in your position. You have lost everything that makes life dear. You will not have a kind word or a kind thought from any living being.” The other lifted his white, haggard face at this. “Curse you!” he cried bitterly. “Why should you taunt me? Don’t crow too soon. You have not won yet.” “I have lost,” replied Conway; “lost her twice, through you.” The other laughed mockingly. “Yes, you have lost,” he said tauntingly. “I had forgotten that divorce was invalid.” Conway made no answer to this, but that stern, set look came over his face again. “You understand your position,” he said sternly. “Whether that paper were valid or not does not matter. You have lost her as well as I.” “She is still my wife,” sneered his rival, snapping his fingers in Conway’s face; “and she will be my wife as long as I live.” And then he returned to his old position, and covered his face with his shaking hands. Conway looked at him almost pityingly. “Do what you will,” he said; “but remember, we wish to spare your dupes as much as possible; and remember, too, that you cannot escape us this time.” And after he had gone, the words rang in the ears of the other, as he sat crouching over the desk: “You have lost all that makes life dear to any one; and escape is impossible.” After leaving the mill, Conway found Jim, and together they returned to the hotel. It was noon now, and they must not leave Norine too long alone. So they returned to her, and told her as much as they thought best of what had passed.