He grabbed the Italian by the breast with his right hand, lifted him high in the air, gathered the papers from the table in his left hand, and carried his kicking, cursing, but helpless adversary to the door.

Then he set him down again, opened the door, and remembering Brett’s advice, assisted him outside, flinging the documents after him and closing the door.

With impotent rage in his heart, Capella rushed from the hotel and caught the last train to the south.  He had not been in Whitby two hours, but he was now embarked upon his vengeful mission, and bitterly resolved to push it to the uttermost extremity.

Margaret had not uttered a sound during the final scene.  She stood as one turned to stone.  Robert did not dare to speak to her.  How could he offer consolation to a woman whose tenderest feelings had been so wantonly outraged?

“Robert,” she said at last, “he spoke of getting a divorce.  I believe he can do this by Italian law.  Here it should be impossible.”

“In that case,” he said calmly, “you and I will go and live in Italy.”

She placed her hands before her face, and burst into a tempest of tears.

“Now, my dear girl,” he murmured, “try and forget that pitiful rascal and his threats.  You are well rid of him.  I will leave you now for a little while.  In half an hour we will go and listen to the band until dinner.  Really, we have had a most enjoyable afternoon.”

He went out, placid and smiling, and Margaret sobbed plentifully—­until it became necessary to go to her room and remove the traces of her grief.  So it may be assumed that her tears were not all occasioned by grief for the contemplated loss of her ill-chosen mate.

When the others returned from their excursion, Frazer explained to them all that was needful with reference to Capella’s visit.  Helen was very outspoken in her indignation, and even the rector condemned the Italian’s conduct in plain terms.

He warmly approved of the resolution arrived at by Robert and David to return to London next day, and not leave Brett until a definite stage had been reached in the strangely intricate inquiry they were embarked on.

They sat late into the night, discussing the pros and cons of the situation; yet among these five people, fully cognisant as they were of nearly every fact known to the able barrister who had taken charge of their affairs, not one even remotely guessed the pending sequel.

Whilst they were talking and hoping for some favourable outcome, the night express from York was hurrying Capella to a weird conclusion of his efforts to discredit his wife.  Had he but known what lay before him he would have left the train at the first station and hastened to Margaret, to grovel at her feet and beg her forgiveness for the foul aspersions cast upon her.

It was too late.

CHAPTER XXXI