“Harry!” she cried, imploring she scarcely knew what.
“I’ll talk to you presently,” he said, in a voice of smouldering resentment. “I’m not blaming you--but I guess you might have waited a bit. We’ll square this out by ourselves when he’s gone.”
Satterthwaite smiled, and his smile was by no means acquiescent.
“I guess you’ll have to wait for that, Mr. Tremaine,” he said, in even tones that had an edge to them. “I’m not going just yet.”
“I’m not going,” repeated Satterthwaite. “You don’t realize the situation, my friend. This woman has been living with me for a year as my wife. I do not propose to make her name a public scandal. Officially, you are dead. Well--remain dead!”
“And leave you my wife, my child--all this!” He waved his hand round the flat. “Thank you!”
“I’ll buy your property of you at your own valuation. Your will has been proved. The amount of your estate, plus interest, shall be refunded to you. I’ll give you, in addition, any reasonable amount as compensation. You are the victim of circumstances, my friend--but, as a straight man, there’s only one thing for you to do. You can’t ruin this woman’s life!”
Both men, following their thought, turned to glance at her. She stood tense, deathly pale, looking from one to the other, evidently in an atrocious dilemma, unable to utter a word.
Tremaine swung round again to his rival, sneered scornfully.
“What kind of fool do you take me for? Do you expect me to give up my wife and child, my home--give up my whole existence and pretend to be someone else--just to oblige you? You must be mad!--I’ve come back and here I am--come to stay,” he ended, doggedly, “to pick up my life again!”
There was a shade of sympathy in Satterthwaite’s eyes as he contemplated him.
“But can’t you see that it’s impossible to pick it up again where you left off?” he said. “Can’t you see that as Harry Tremaine you can never be happy again? You can’t get away from what has happened--it will always be there, haunting you--and you’ll be reminded of it--pointed at. The other women will make your wife’s life a hell in the thousand little subtle ways they have. And besides, _what have you been doing for the past two years_? You’ve been living somewhere--as somebody. That existence will always be waiting in the background--ready to spring out on you--and you can’t guard against it, for you don’t even know what it was!”