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Over her head he faced the stranger with eyes of steely hardness. “You have made a mistake,” he said, briefly and sternly.

The other man’s teeth gleamed again. He had a way of lifting his lip when talking which gave him an oddly bestial look. “I think not,” he said. “Let the lady speak for herself! She will not–I think–deny me.”

There was an intolerable sneer in the last sentence. A sudden awful doubt smote through Merryon. He turned to the girl sobbing at his breast.

“Puck,” he said, “for Heaven’s sake–what is this man to you?”

She did not answer him; perhaps she could not. Her distress was terrible to witness, utterly beyond all control.

But the newcomer was by no means disconcerted by it. He drew near with the utmost assurance.

“Allow me to deal with her!” he said, and reached out a hand to touch her.

But at that action Merryon’s wrath burst into sudden flame. “Curse you, keep away!” he thundered. “Lay a finger on her at your peril!”

The other stood still, but his eyes gleamed evilly. “My good sir,” he said, “you have not yet grasped the situation. It is not a pleasant one for you–for either of us; but it has got to be grasped. I do not happen to know under what circumstances you met this woman; but I do know that she was my lawful wife before the meeting took place. In whatever light you may be pleased to regard that fact, you must admit that legally she is my property, not yours!”

“Oh, no–no–no!” moaned Puck.

Merryon said nothing. He felt strangled, as if a ligature about his throat had forced all the blood to his brain and confined it there.

After a moment the bearded man continued: “You may not know it, but she is a dancer of some repute, a circumstance which she owes entirely to me. I picked her up, a mere child in the streets of London, turning cart-wheels for a living. I took her and trained her as an acrobat. She was known on the stage as Toby the Tumbler. Everyone took her for a boy. Later, she developed a talent for dancing. It was then that I decided to marry her. She desired the marriage even more than I did.” Again he smiled his brutal smile.

“Oh, no!” sobbed Puck. “Oh, no!”

He passed on with a derisive sneer. “We were married about two years ago. She became popular in the halls very soon after, and it turned her head. You may have discovered yourself by this time that she is not always as tractable as she might be. I had to teach her obedience and respect, and eventually I succeeded. I conquered her–as I hoped–completely. However, six months ago she took advantage of a stage fire to give me the slip, and till recently I believed that she was dead. Then a friend of mine–Captain Silvester–met her out here in India a few weeks back at a place called Shamkura, and recognized her. Her dancing qualities are superb. I think she displayed them a little rashly if she really wished to remain hidden. He sent me the news, and I have come myself to claim her–and take her back.”

“You can’t take me back!” It was Puck’s voice, but not as Merryon had ever heard it before. She flashed round like a hunted creature at bay, her eyes blazing a wild defiance into the mocking eyes opposite. “You can’t take me back!” she repeated, with quivering insistence. “Our marriage was–no marriage! It was a sham–a sham! But even if–even if–it had been–a true marriage–you would have to–set me–free–now.”

“And why?” said Vulcan, with his evil smile.

She was white to the lips, but she faced him unflinching. “There is–a reason,” she said.

“In–deed!” He uttered a scoffing laugh of deadly insult. “The same reason, I presume, as that for which you married me?”

She flinched at that–flinched as if he had struck her across the face. “Oh, you brute!” she said, and shuddered back against Merryon’s supporting arm. “You wicked brute!”