Viles had somewhat recovered himself. He followed Jeff’s indifferent back into the dining room. The woman did not rise. Jeff set a chair across the table from her, and Viles sat down in it while Jeff himself crossed to shut the door that led into the parlor, then came back and leaned against the kitchen door, watching this husband and wife, waiting for what they would say. Viles had drawn a velvet glove over the iron hand. He asked the woman gently, “Are you all right, my dear?” She nodded. “You are well?” “Yes,” she said slowly. “Yes, I am well.” He looked toward Jeff. “Mrs. Viles is unfortunately subject to moments of great depression,” he explained courteously. “In these moments--” He stopped, arched his eyebrows meaningly, as though Jeff must understand. “You mean she has crazy spells?” Jeff asked bluntly. Viles protested wordlessly. “She don’t act crazy to me,” Jeff commented. “But you may be right. She married you.” He was seeking quite deliberately to goad the other man into violence, but Viles controlled himself, said across the table to his wife, “We have been greatly concerned, my dear.” “I’m sorry,” she said unconvincingly. “It is a relief to know that you have not suffered. That scratch across your temple--” Lucia touched with her fingers the slight wound. “It is nothing.” “You must have a good rest in bed when we get back to the yacht,” he told her. There was an elephantine sportiveness in the man’s demeanor. “I’m going to enjoy taking care of you.” She was silent for a moment, then slowly shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll go back,” she told him. “I don’t think I’ll go back at all.” He tried to laugh easily. “You’re fancying things, Lucia. It is your home. You belong there.” She faced him with a moment of decision. “If you withdraw the charge against Frank I’ll go back with you, Leander.” “Withdraw it?” he asked in pretended astonishment. “I can’t bear to have him go to jail,” she cried softly. “But, my dear, the man’s a thief; has betrayed the trust I reposed in him.” “I can’t help it. I can’t help it. I don’t want him to go to jail.” Viles dropped his eyes to the oilcloth that covered the table and drummed upon it with his fingers for a moment, then turned to Jeff. “I’d be obliged for a few moments’ talk with my wife alone,” he said, a sardonic note in his tone. Jeff held his eyes for a minute, then looked toward the woman. “What shall I do, ma’am?” he asked, as though it were a matter of course that he should defer to her. She made a weary gesture. “He has a right to that,” she said. Jeff nodded. “I’ll come back in fifteen minutes, mister,” he told Viles menacingly. But Viles smiled in affable assent. “That will do finely,” he agreed.