"Well--you see, Mr. George Godolphin, I'd rather not, as long as there's the least doubt as to Appleby's death. _I_ feel none myself: but if it should turn out to be a mistake, my appearance here would do good neither to me nor to Verrall. And Verrall's a dangerous man to cross. He might kill me in his passion. It takes a good deal to put him into one, but when it does come, it's like a tornado." "You acknowledge that there is a doubt as to Appleby's death, then!" sarcastically cried Charlotte. "I say that it's just possible. It was not being fully certain that brought me back in this clandestine way. What I want you to do is to ask Verrall if Appleby's dead. I believe he will answer 'Yes.' 'Very well,' then you can say, 'Rodolf Pain's home again.' And if----" "And if he says, 'No, he is not dead,' what then?" fiercely interrupted Charlotte. "Then you can tell me privately, and I must depart the way I came. But I don't depart without being _satisfied_ of the fact," pointedly added Mr. Pain, as if he had not entire and implicit reliance upon Charlotte's word. "My firm belief is that he is dead, and that Verrall will tell you he is dead. In that case I am a free man to-morrow." Charlotte turned her head towards him, terrible anger in her tone, and in her face. "And how is your reappearance to be accounted for to those who look upon _you_ as dead?" "I don't care how," indifferently answered Rodolf. "I did not spread the report of my own death. If you did, you can contradict it." "If I did do it, it was to save your reputation," returned Charlotte, scarcely able to speak in her passion. "_I_ know," said Rodolf Pain. "You feared something or other might come out about your husband, and so you thought you'd kill me off-hand. Two for yourself and one for me, Charlotte." She did not answer. "If my coming back is so annoying to you, we can live apart," he resumed. "You pretty well gave me a sickener before I went away. As you know." "This must be an amusing dialogue to Mr. George Godolphin!" fumed Charlotte. "May-be," replied Rodolf Pain, his tone sad and weary. "I have been so hardly treated between you and Verrall, Charlotte, that I don't care who knows it." "Where are you staying?" asked George, wondering whether the shady spots about Ashlydyat sheltered him by day as well as by night. "Not far away, sir: at a roadside inn," was the answer. "No one knew me much, about here, in the old days; but, to make assurance doubly sure, I only come out in the evening. Look here, Charlotte. If you refuse to ask Verrall, or to help me, I shall go to London, and obtain the information there. I am not quite without friends in the great city: they would receive me better than you have received me." "I wonder you did not go there at once," said Charlotte, sharply. "It was natural that I should go first where my wife was," returned Rodolf Pain; "even though she had not been the most affectionate of wives to me."