“‘Ha, ha!’ I laughed.  ’Mr. Merkell is dead, and I am mistress here henceforth.  Go, and go at once,—­do you hear?’

“’I hear, but I shall not heed.  I can prove my rights!  I shall not leave!’

“‘Very well,’ I replied, ‘we shall see.  The law will decide.’

“I left the room, but did not leave the house.  On the contrary, I concealed myself where I could see what took place in the room adjoining the death-chamber.

“She entered the room a moment later, with her child on one arm and the keys in the other hand.  Placing the child on the floor, she put the key in the lock, and seemed surprised to find the desk already unfastened.  She opened the desk, picked up a roll of money and a ladies’ watch, which first caught her eye, and was reaching toward the drawer upon the right, when I interrupted her:—­

“‘Well, thief, are you trying to strip the house before you leave it?’

“She gave an involuntary cry, clasped one hand to her bosom and with the other caught up her child, and stood like a wild beast at bay.

“‘I am not a thief,’ she panted.  ‘The things are mine!’

“‘You lie,’ I replied.  ’You have no right to them,—­no more right than you have to remain in this house!’

“‘I have a right,’ she persisted, ‘and I can prove it!’

“She turned toward the desk, seized the drawer, and drew it open.  Never shall I forget her look,—­never shall I forget that moment; it was the happiest of my life.  The drawer was empty!

“Pale as death she turned and faced me.

“‘The papers!’ she shrieked, ‘the papers! You have stolen them!’

“‘Papers?’ I laughed, ’what papers?  Do you take me for a thief, like yourself?’

“‘There were papers here,’ she cried, ’only a minute since.  They are mine,—­give them back to me!’

“‘Listen, woman,’ I said sternly, ’you are lying—­or dreaming.  My brother-in-law’s papers are doubtless in his safe at his office, where they ought to be.  As for the rest,—­you are a thief.’

“‘I am not,’ she screamed; ’I am his wife.  He married me, and the papers that were in the desk will prove it.’

“‘Listen,’ I exclaimed, when she had finished,—­’listen carefully, and take heed to what I say.  You are a liar.  You have no proofs,—­there never were any proofs of what you say, because it never happened,—­it is absurd upon the face of it.  Not one person in Wellington would believe it.  Why should he marry you?  He did not need to!  You are merely lying,—­you are not even self-deceived.  If he had really married you, you would have made it known long ago.  That you did not is proof that your story is false.’

“She was hit so hard that she trembled and sank into a chair.  But I had no mercy—­she had saved your father from me—­’dear Julia,’ indeed!

“‘Stand up,’ I ordered.  ’Do not dare to sit down in my presence.  I have you on the hip, my lady, and will teach you your place.’