"Upon my soul, I enjoy a chat with you," he assured me. "You see, I have no one else to confide in"--here he grinned--"and there's a peculiar pleasure in unbosoming to a helpless enemy." "The pleasure is mutual," I protested courteously. "No other man has given me such mental pabulum." He closed one eye in a very vulgar manner, "Confess you expire with curiosity to hear more of my beautiful fiancée--the woman you love!" "The more readily," I responded, "because I know you'll be delighted to taunt me with the satisfaction of that same curiosity." "Ah!" said he. "You are a foeman worthy of my steel. My heart warms with hate for you; respectful hate." He took out a silver pocket flask of spirit and filled the cup. At this he began to sip, eyeing me the while with secret delight at my carefully repressed impatience. But he was too anxious to torture me directly to keep me waiting long. "She's in a drugged sleep this moment," he announced. "I'll keep her like that till after the funeral." "That's unlike you," I remarked. "It's almost kind." "Pish!" said he, "I can't afford to let her out of my control even for a moment." "So?" "So." "But you will have to let her see her relatives, eh?" "Fortunately she hasn't one blood relation in England. Her mother was an Australian, a Victorian farmer's daughter, and Ottley took good care not to marry the family. She has never even seen one of her mother's people." "But her father's?" "She is just as fortunately placed, from my point of view, in this regard. Ottley was the only son. And although I believe there is an old maiden aunt twice removed knocking round somewhere in Wales, I'm not afraid of her. She's bed-ridden and a pensioner. As I'm trustee of the estate she'll do what I tell her and stay where she is or I'll know the reason why." "I'm sure you will," I agreed with pious fervour. "The Fates seem to have deliberately conspired to assist me in every possible way," continued Belleville. "The only real woman friend Miss Ottley had, Lady Helen Hubbard, has gone to South America with her husband, and the only man friend who might have helped her sits in that chair. There is not another soul in England who has either the shadow of a right or interest to question my treatment. I'm her sole trustee and as well as that her legal guardian, for although she is over age she does not come into control of her fortune until she is twenty-seven unless she marries in the meanwhile." "You propose, of course, that she shall marry you. When?" "Oh, in a few days' time. It will naturally be a secret marriage in order to save scandal. But I'm determined it shall take place immediately." "And afterwards--how will you treat her?" I had hard work to grind this question out. Belleville gave a nasty laugh. "That depends on herself," he answered. "If she is a dutiful, docile wife she will have little cause to grumble." "And--if not?"