He swept Aristide aside like an intercepting willow-branch, and poured forth a torrent of furious speech upon his wife. "I have hated you for twenty years. Day by day I have hated you more. I've watched you, watched you, watched you! But, you sly jade, you've been too clever for me till now. Yes; I followed you from the hotel. I dogged you. I foresaw what would happen. Now the end has come. I've hated you for twenty years--ever since you first betrayed me----" Mrs. Ducksmith, who had sat with overwhelmed head in her hands, started bolt upright, and looked at him like one thunderstruck. "I betrayed you?" she gasped, in bewilderment. "My God! When? How? What do you mean?" He laughed--for the first time since Aristide had known him--but it was a ghastly laugh, that made the jowls of his cheeks spread horribly to his ears; and again he flooded the calm, stately courtyard with the raging violence of words. The veneer of easy life fell from him. He became the low-born, petty tradesman, using the language of the hands of his jam factory. No, he had never told her. He had awaited his chance. Now he had found it. He called her names.... [Illustration: "I'VE CAUGHT YOU! AT LAST, AFTER TWENTY YEARS, I'VE CAUGHT YOU!"] Aristide interposed, his Southern being athrob with the insults heaped upon the woman. "Say that again, monsieur," he shouted, "and I will take you up in my arms like a sheep and throw you down that well." The two men glared at one another, Aristide standing bent, with crooked fingers, ready to spring at the other's throat. The woman threw herself between them. "For Heaven's sake," she cried, "listen to me! I have done no wrong. I have done no wrong now--I never did you wrong, so help me God!" Mr. Ducksmith laughed again, and his laugh re-echoed round the quiet walls and up the vast staircase of honour. "You'd be a fool not to say it. But now I've done with you. Here, you, sir. Take her away--do what you like with her; I'll divorce her. I'll give you a thousand pounds never to see her again." "_Goujat! Triple goujat!_" cried Aristide, more incensed than ever at this final insult. Mrs. Ducksmith, deadly white, swayed sideways, and Aristide caught her in his arms and dragged her to the stone bench. The fat, heavy man looked at them for a second, laughed again, and sped through the _porte-cochère_. Mrs. Ducksmith quickly recovered from her fainting attack, and gently pushed the solicitous Aristide away. "Merciful Heaven!" she murmured. "What is to become of me?"