"Come, come," answered Vinton, coolly and maliciously, "I am but speaking the truth. As for killing, let me remind you that two can play at that game. I have a pistol in my pocket, and I believe I am a better shot than you are. But your wife, as you call her, is not worthy the shedding of an honest man's blood! I will keep my weapon in its place, and all I ask you is to confront me with the lady whose honor you are so zealously defending. I think she will not dare to deny that once she claimed me as her _dearest_ friend!" Captain Ernscliffe drew back his hand to strike him in the face, but something in his enemy's words and looks seemed to stagger him. He hoarsely exclaimed: "I will not pollute the pure air she breathes with your foul presence. As for you, _liar_, beware how you assert things that you cannot prove." "Hard words break no bones," laughed Leon Vinton, seeming to take downright pleasure in tormenting the other. "I'm determined not to be angry with you, for I do not think the lady we are discussing is worth the trouble. I can prove all that I assert, and more besides." "How? How?" exclaimed Ernscliffe, in sheer amaze at his unparalleled effrontery. "I _could_ prove it by the lady herself, but since you refuse to admit me to her presence, come with me to my home, a few miles from the city, and my housekeeper shall show you the elegant rooms Mrs. Ernscliffe occupied when she was my dear friend and guest for a year." The cool, insolent assertion fell on Captain Ernscliffe's ears like a thunderbolt. He staggered back and stared at the calm, smiling villain in wonder mingled with indefinable dread. "My God!" he muttered, half to himself, "you would not make such an assertion unless you could prove it." "I can prove every assertion I have made," was the confident reply. "Queenie Lyle ran away with me the day her mother and sisters went to Europe. She lived with me nearly a year. I can prove this, remember." "You married her!" gasped his adversary, his eyes starting, his face as white as death. Leon Vinton looked at that pale, anguish-stricken face, and laughed aloud, the mocking laugh of a fiend. "Married her?" he asked, sneeringly. "Oh, no, I am not one of the marrying kind. She knew that, but she loved me, and was content to live with me on my own terms." There was a blank silence. Captain Ernscliffe dimly felt that the agony he was enduring was commensurate with the pains of hell. Leon Vinton enjoyed his misery to the utmost. "We lived together a year," he went on, after a moment. "At first we were very loving and very happy, but well--you know how such cases always terminate--we wearied of each other. She was a spit-fire and a termagant. She pushed me into the river and tried to drown me. She thought she had succeeded, and ran away home. Her family kept her fatal secret, and married her off to you." "This is horrible if true!" ejaculated the listener.