“What convinced you of the fraud?”

“A conversation with Mrs. Henley.”

“Oh, the woman, hey!” his tone again sarcastic.  “Always the woman; more to be valued than great riches, aye! even than fine gold.  Good Lord, Craig, don’t be a wooden-headed fool.  I tell you plainly Philip Henley was never married, and I know.  This girl is a mere adventuress unworthy of any consideration.”

“You claim still to be Henley?” I asked, stifling my indignation.

“Not only claim, but am.  My identity is already firmly established in court.  Lawyers have the final papers ready to file.”

“You do not in any way resemble the photograph shown me of the man.”

“A fake picture; we have known something of Neale’s plans from the first.”

The man was apparently so confident, that I began to doubt my own conclusions, and yet I could not doubt her.  Whatever other falsehoods might compass me about, she was to be implicitly trusted.

“Is the woman on board?” I questioned.

He hesitated just an instant.

“Yes.”

“Will you have her brought here?”

He walked across the cabin twice, turning the proposition over in his mind.  Apparently concluding that the ordeal might as well be over with first as last, he opened the door, and gave an order to Peters.  Then he returned to his seat at the desk.

“This is all silly enough, Craig, but I might as well convince you both now, as later, that I hold the cards.  The lady may try a bluff, if she is that kind, but it will be soon over.”

We waited silently, and I endeavored swiftly to formulate a satisfactory course of action.  In spite of all my faith in her—­which could never waver—­it was clearly evident this fellow had us helpless in his grasp.  If I was to become free to act it could only be by yielding to his expressed desires, and apparently accepting his claims.  That this would separate me for the time from Mrs. Henley, alienate her friendship, was a certainty.  Yet I must risk all this even to be of real service.  The end would justify the means.  We were confronted by no common scoundrel, and here was a case where fire could only be fought with flame.  I did not for an instant believe he was Philip Henley, yet he was apparently fortified with strong evidence to sustain that claim.  The very fact that he so strenuously denied that Philip was married, convinced me he was an impostor, that he had never even heard of this secret wedding.  Probably the Judge had not mentioned it while living, nor written any memoranda concerning it.  Yet Neale knew, and there could be no question as to the truth of the matter.  In view of all I decided openly to cast my fortunes with the man, and appear angry at the deceit with which she had ensnared me.  I dreaded the result, the expression my apparent desertion would bring to her face, but this seemed the only was possible for