“Guy Oleander, are you mad?  What are you saying?”

“The truth, Blanche.  It is too late for any other alternative now.  Don’t fear—­Mr. Walraven will hardly allow his ward to prosecute his wife.”

“Traitor and coward!” Blanche Walraven cried in fierce scorn.  “I wish my tongue had blistered with the words that urged you on.”

“I wish it had,” returned the doctor, coolly.  “I wish, as I often have wished since, that I had never listened to your tempting.  It was your fault, not mine, from first to last.”

It was the old story of Adam and Eve over again:  “The woman tempted me, and I did eat.”

“‘When rogues fall out, honest men get their own.’  You mean to say, Doctor Oleander, that Mrs. Walraven instigated you on?”

“How else should I know?” answered the doctor.  “She overheard you telling the woman Miriam, in your chamber, the whole story.  She saw and understood your advertisement and its answer.  She concocted the whole scheme, even to advancing the hands of your watch half an hour.  If the law punishes me, Miss Dane, it must also punish your guardian’s wife.”

“Coward! coward!” Blanche furiously cried.  “Oh, basest of the base!  If I only had the power to strike you dead at my feet!”

The doctor bore the onslaught quietly enough.

“Heroics are all very well, Blanche,” he said; “but self-preservation is the first law of nature.  Confession is the only avenue of escape, and I have taken it.  Besides, justice is justice.  You deserve it.  You goaded me on.  It was your fault from beginning to end.”

“And you own, then, you are not the man who carried me off before?” said Mollie.  “You are not the man Mr. Rashleigh married?”

“I swear I’m not!” cried the doctor, with an earnestness there was no mistaking.  “And I’m very thankful I’m not.  I wouldn’t lead the life I’ve led for the past two weeks for all the women alive.  I’m glad you’re here, and that the whole thing is knocked in the head.”

He spoke with the dogged recklessness of a man goaded to desperation.  Mollie turned again to her guardian and laid her face on his shoulder.

“Send that man away, guardy.  His presence in the room turns me sick to death.”

“I am going, Miss Dane,” said Dr. Oleander, turning moodily to the door, “and I shall not go to Cuba.  I shall not quit New York.  Let you or your guardian prosecute me if you dare!”

He stalked out with the last words.  No one moved or spoke until the house-door banged after him.

Then Mme. Blanche, seeing all was lost, gave one horrible scream, clasped her hands over her head, and fell back in violent hysterics.

“Ring for her maid, guardy,” said Mollie.  “You had best take her up to her room.  Sir Roger, Mr. Ingelow, please to remain.  Mr. Sardonyx, excuse me, but you have heard all that it is necessary you should hear.”

The lawyer became angry-red, but turned at once to go.