But whatever threat he may have intended to make, Thorold interrupted. "He is married already," he cried; "he is no more your husband than I." At this announcement Mr. Dunellen let an arm he had outstretched fall to his side; he turned to Thorold, and Justine looked wonderingly in Roland's face. "What does he mean?" she asked. Roland shrugged his shoulders, "God knows," he answered. "He must be screwed." "You _are_ married," Thorold called out. "You needn't attempt to deny it here." "I don't in the least: this lady has just done me the honor to become my wife." "But you have another--you told me so yourself." Roland, who had been really perplexed, could not now conceal a smile. He remembered that he had indeed told Thorold he was married, but he had done so merely as an easy way of diverting the suspicions which that gentleman displayed. Justine, still looking at him, caught the smile. "Why don't you speak?" she asked. "What is there to say?" he answered. "It is false as an obituary." "Then tell him so." But for that there was no time. Mr. Dunellen, trained in procedure, had already questioned Thorold, and found that save Mistrial's word he had nothing to grapple on. "Leave the house, sir," he shouted, and pointed to the door. "When he goes, father, I go too." "Then go." And raising his arms above his head as though to invoke the testimony of heaven, he bawled at her, "I disown you." "There's Christian forbearance," muttered Mistrial; and he might have asserted as much, but Justine had lowered her veil. "Come," she said. And as she and her husband passed from the room the old man roared impotently "I disinherit you--you are no longer my child." "Didn't you tell me he had been used to having his own way?" Roland asked, as he put Justine in the cab; and without waiting for an answer he told the driver to go to the Brunswick, and took a seat at her side.