"What if I set afoot an inquiry which would prove that to be not the truth?" Mrs. Seaton rang the bell. "I must request you to leave the house," she said. "I will do so in a minute or two. I happen to know that your letter-box is kept locked, and that no one opens it but yourself. I regret to be compelled to say to a lady that it is a wicked and cowardly action to appropriate a letter not addressed to herself. Of such an action you have undoubtedly been guilty. May I inquire if the letter I refer to is still in existence?" "You may inquire what you please, sir, but I shall make no reply to your insults. I presume you have obtained certain information from Miss Braham. "Yes, she informed me that she had not received a letter I wrote to her." "She informed you," said Mrs. Seaton, with a venomous look. "When?" "This afternoon." "I understand. You and she are in the habit of meeting in secret outside my house. Such conduct is infamous, and now that I have positive knowledge of such proceedings I shall know how to act. Mr. Paget, we are speaking here in private, with no listeners to report what is said. Let me advise you to be careful as to what you say or do about this imaginary letter of yours. The young person you refer to may have a good name to lose, and it will be foolish on your part to set a lady of my standing in society against her. Mud will stick, Mr. Paget, never mind, by whom it is thrown, but when it is thrown by a lady or gentleman of repute it will stick all the closer. I learn, too late, that you have used my house as an assignation house----" "You are stating what is false," cried Gerald, indignantly. "As an assignation house," repeated Mrs. Seaton, with a malicious smile. "Having discovered your baseness--for you are no gentleman, Mr. Paget, and the other person implicated is no lady--there is only one course open to me. That course I shall pursue. If you do not leave my presence instantly I shall send for the police to remove you." With that, the venomous woman threw open the door, and Gerald Paget, dismayed and discomfited, took his departure. "A nice mess I have made of it," he thought, as he walked ruefully from the house, without venturing to look back. "What on earth made me beard the lioness in her den? The lioness! Not at all. There is something of nobility in that breed, and Mrs. Seaton hasn't a particle of nobility about her. She is a serpent. Her fangs are poisonous. How will she act toward Emilia? Mud will stick, she says. But what does it matter if Emilia loves me?"