Madame Cerise regarded him wonderingly.

“She is a good girl,” was her reply.  “She loves with much devotion the man from whom you have stolen her.  I am quite positive she will never consent to become your wife.”

“Oh, you are?  Well, I intend she shall marry me, and that settles it.  She’s unnerved and miserable now, and I mean to grind her down till she hasn’t strength to resist me.  That sounds hard.  I know; but it’s the only way to accomplish my purpose.  After she’s my wife I’ll be very kind to her, poor thing, and teach her to love me.  A man can do anything with a woman if he sets about it the right way.  I’m not taking this stand because I’m cruel, Cerise, but because I’m desperate.  All’s fair in love and war, you know, and this is a bit of both.”

He was pacing the floor by this time, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, an anxious look upon his face that belied his bombastic words.

The Frenchwoman’s expression was impassive.  Her scorn for the wretch before her was tempered with the knowledge that his cowardly plan was doomed to defeat.  It was she who had checkmated him, and she was glad.  Now and again her eyes sought the clock, while she silently calculated the time to elapse before Arthur Weldon arrived.  There would be a pretty scene then, Cerise would have much enjoyment in witnessing the encounter.

“Now, then, take me to Louise,” commanded Mershone, suddenly.

She shrank back in dismay.

“Oh, not yet, m’sieur!”

“Why not?”

“The young lady is asleep.  She will not waken for an hour—­perhaps two.”

“I can’t wait.  We’ll waken her now, and give her an idea of the change of program.”

“But no, m’sieur!  It is outrageous.  The poor thing has but now sobbed herself to sleep, after many bitter hours.  Can you not wait a brief hour, having waited five days?”

“No.  Take me to her at once.”  As he came toward her the woman drew away.

“I cannot,” she said firmly.

“See here, Cerise, I intend to be obeyed.  I won’t endure any nonsense at this stage of the game, believe me,” he announced fiercely.  “In order to win, there’s just one way to manage this affair, and I insist upon your following my instructions.  Take me to Louise!”

“I will not!” she returned, the bead-like eyes glittering as they met his angry gaze.

“Then I’ll go alone.  Give me the key.”

She did not move, nor did she answer him.  At her waist hung a small bunch of household keys and this he seized with a sudden movement and jerked loose from its cord.

“You miserable hag!” he muttered, inflamed with anger at her opposition.  “If you propose to defend this girl and defy me, you’ll find I’m able to crush you as I will her.  While I’m gone I expect you to come to your senses, and decide to obey me.”

With these words he advanced to the door of the little room and opened it.  Just outside stood Fogerty, smiling genially.