“You!” shouted Sir Lionel, with a voice of indescribable hate and ferocity. He turned as he spoke, and stared at her. His wild eyes, however, met the calm, cold, steady glance of those of his “keeper,” and they fell before it. He seized the whip and began to lash the horses, crying as he did so, “You! yes, you! you! most of all!” “What can you do to me?” asked Lady Dudleigh. “You? Arrest you.” “What have I done?” “You? You have done every thing. You have aided and abetted the escape of an outlaw. You have assisted him in his nefarious occupation of Dalton Hall. You have aided and abetted him in the imprisonment of Dalton's brat. You have aided and abetted him in the murder of my boy Leon. You have--” “Stop!” cried Lady Dudleigh, in a stern, commanding voice. “You have been a villain always, but you have never been so outspoken. Who are you? Do you know what happened ten years ago?” “What?” asked Sir Lionel. “Do you mean Dalton's forgery, and his assassination of that--that banker fellow?” Lady Dudleigh smiled grimly. “I am glad that you said that,” said she. “You remove my last scruple. My brother's wrongs have well-nigh maddened me; but I have hesitated to bear witness against my husband, and the father of my children. I shall remember this, and it will sustain me when I bear my witness against you in a court of law.” “Me?” said Sir Lionel. “Me? Witness against me? You can not. No one will believe you.” “It will not be only your wife,” said she, “though that will be something, but your own self, with your own hand.” “What do you mean?” “I mean what you know very well--your letter which you wrote to Frederick, inclosing your forged check.” “I never forged a check, and I never wrote a letter inclosing one!” cried Sir Lionel. “Dalton forged that letter himself, if there is such a letter. He was an accomplished forger, and has suffered for it.” “The letter is your own,” said Lady Dudleigh, “and I can swear to it.” “No one will believe you,” cried Sir Lionel. “You shall be arrested for perjury.” Lady Dudleigh gave another grim smile, and then she added, “There is that _Maltese cross_. You forget that.” “What Maltese cross?” said Sir Lionel. “I never had one. That wasn't mine; it was Dalton's.” “But I can swear in a court of law,” said Lady Dudleigh, “that this Maltese cross was _yours_, and that it was given to you by me as a birthday gift.” “No one will believe you!” cried Sir Lionel; “no one will believe you!” “Why not? Will they refuse the oath of Lady Dudleigh?” “I can show them that you are insane,” said Sir Lionel, with a chuckle at the idea, which seemed to him like a sudden inspiration. “You will not be able to show that Reginald is insane,” said she. “Reginald?” “Yes, Reginald,” repeated Lady Dudleigh. “Reginald knows that Maltese cross, and knows when I gave it to you. He too will be ready to swear to that in a court of law whenever I tell him that he may do so.