"I do," said Mrs. Verschoyle, stepping forward. "You!" he cried out, recoiling; "you are mad to do such a thing." "No, I am not mad," retorted Mrs. Verschoyle, "but I would have been if I had let you marry Carmela." "Oh!" he said, viciously, looking at Ronald; "so this is a plot to rob me of my promised wife." "She is not your promised wife," cried Ronald, boldly; "she made the promise under compulsion--now she is free." "To marry you," said Vassalla, savagely. "If she'll have me--yes," retorted Monteith. The Marchese turned to Foster. "Mr.--whatever your name is," he said, "do you believe this charge?" "Mrs. Verschoyle says you committed the murder;" returned Foster. "Mrs. Verschoyle," said Matteo, contemptuously, "is a madwoman." "Am I?" she returned quietly; "you'll find there's some method in my madness." "I can disprove the whole charge," said Vassalla, moving towards his writing-table. "Come, sir," said the detective, "we must be going." "Going----with you?" retorted Vassalla, in an angry tone, "are you mad? I can disprove this charge," and he threw open the desk and took his portfolio from it. "Try," said Mrs. Verschoyle, laconically. Muttering a curse, the Marchese opened his portfolio, and ran through a number of letters. Suddenly he turned round with a ghastly face: "Where is the paper?" he asked. "What paper?" said Mrs. Verschoyle, calmly. "What paper? Curse you!" he cried; "you know the paper I mean--the one written by your husband, whom you accuse me of killing." "I know of no paper," she said, quietly, with a sneer; "this is a fabrication to delay justice. "I tell you it's false," cried Vassalla, in despair; "I did not kill the man. I defy you to press this charge. When the time comes I can prove my innocence, and I decline to make any statement now." "Prove your innocence," she said, sarcastically, "with the missing paper, I suppose?" "Yes; and you know where it is," he said. "Maltese dog," she shrieked, "you lie," and she would have sprung forward, only Ronald her back. "I have to thank you for this," said Vassalla to Ronald, as he put on his hat and coat, "but, I do not forget, I will repay you; and as for you, jade that you are, I'll prove myself innocent and then punish you." "Bah! I defy you," she said, contemptuously; "you'll never marry Carmela, but hang--hang, like the dog you are!" "Confound it, Mrs. Verschoyle, leave the man alone," said Ronald, rather annoyed at the way she was behaving. Vassalla walked to the door with the detective beside him, and faced round as he was going out. "As sure as there's a God in heaven," he said, proudly, "I am innocent, and that woman only brings this accusation against me to satisfy her absurd jealousy. I can prove my innocence, and she"--pointing to Mrs. Verschoyle--"holds the proof." When the door closed, Foster turned to Mrs. Verschoyle. "What does he mean?" asked the lawyer.