She did not shake hands with him, but sat down and looked at him, slowly fanning herself with a painted ivory fan which she took up from the table.

“You sent for me, Belle, and here I am,” he said, breaking the silence.

Then she spoke.  “You told me the other day,” she said, “that you were not engaged to be married to Ida de la Molle.  It is not true.  You are engaged to be married to her.”

“Who said so?” he asked defiantly.  “Quest, I suppose?”

“I have it on a better authority,” she answered.  “I have it from Miss de la Molle herself.  Now, listen, Edward Cossey.  When I let you go, I made a condition, and that condition was that you should not marry Ida de la Molle.  Do you still intend to marry her?”

“You had it from Ida,” he said, disregarding her question; “then you must have spoken to Ida—­you must have told her everything.  I suspected as much from her manner the other night.  You——­”

“Then it is true,” she broke in coldly.  “It is true, and in addition to your other failings, Edward, you are a coward and—­a liar.”

“What is it to you what I am or what I am not?” he answered savagely.  “What business is it of yours?  You have no hold over me, and no claim upon me.  As it is I have suffered enough at your hands and at those of your accursed husband.  I have had to pay him thirty thousand pounds, do you know that?  But of course you know it.  No doubt the whole thing is a plant, and you will share the spoil.”

“Ah!” she said, drawing a long breath.

“And now look here,” he went on.  “Once and for all, I will not be interfered with by you.  I am engaged to marry Ida de la Molle, and whether you wish it or no I shall marry her.  And one more thing.  I will not allow you to associate with Ida.  Do you understand me?  I will not allow it.”

She had been holding the fan before her face while he spoke.  Now she lowered it and looked at him.  Her face was paler than ever, paler than death, if that be possible, but in her eyes there shone a light like the light of a flame.

“Why not?” she said quietly.

“Why not?” he answered savagely.  “I wonder that you think it necessary to ask such a question, but as you do I will tell you why.  Because Ida is the lady whom I am going to marry, and I do not choose that she should associate with a woman who is what you are.”

“Ah!” she said again, “I understand now.”

At that moment a diversion occurred.  The drawing-room looked on to the garden, and at the end of the garden was a door which opened into another street.

Through this door had come Colonel Quaritch accompanied by Mr. Quest, the former with his gun under his arm.  They walked up the garden and were almost at the French window when Edward Cossey saw them.  “Control yourself,” he said in a low voice, “here is your husband.”

Mr. Quest advanced and knocked at the window, which his wife opened.  When he saw Edward Cossey he hesitated a little, then nodded to him, while the Colonel came forward, and placing his gun by the wall entered the room, shook hands with Mrs. Quest, and bowed coldly to Edward Cossey.