Macheson had been prepared for something surprising, but not for this. He looked at her incredulously. He found himself aimlessly repeating her words.
"I was married five years ago in Paris," she said in a dull, emotionless tone. "No one over here knows about it, or has seen him, because he has been in prison all the time. It was I who sent him there."
"I can't believe this," he said, in a low tone. "It is too amazing."
Then a light broke in upon him and he began to understand.
"He is in England now," she said, "and I am afraid."
"King of the Apaches," she answered bitterly. "'The greatest rogue in Paris,' they said, when they sentenced him."
"Sentenced him!" he repeated, bewildered.
"He has been in prison since the day we were married," she continued. "It was I who sent him there."
He bowed his head. He felt that it was not right to look at her. An infinite wave of tenderness swept through his whole being. He was ashamed of his past thoughts of her, of his hasty judgments. All the time she had been carrying this in her bosom. Her very pride seemed to him now magnificent. He felt suddenly like a querulous child.
"What can I do to help you?" he asked softly.
"I am afraid," she said, dropping her voice almost to a whisper. "Ever since I heard the story of his life, as it was told in court, I have been afraid. When he was taken, he swore to be revenged. For the last twenty-four hours I have felt somehow that he was near! Read this!"
She passed him a letter. The notepaper was thick and expensive, and headed by a small coronet.
"My dearest wife," it began. "At last this miserable separation comes to an end! I am here in London, on my way to you! Prepare to throw yourself into my arms. How much too long has our happiness been deferred!
"I should have been with you before, dear Wilhelmina, but for more sordid considerations. I need money. I need money very badly. Send me, please, a thousand pounds to-morrow between three and four--or shall I come and fetch it, and you?
"I sent nothing," she declared. "I did not reply. But I am afraid--horribly afraid! He is a terrible man. If we were alone, he would kill me as you or I would a fly. If only they could have proved the things at the trial which were known to be true, he would never have seen the daylight again. But even the witnesses were terrified. They dared not give evidence against him."
