Henley laughed, the sound grating harshly on my nerves, yet I made no movement of protest as he stepped silently back to his desk.  I was no longer afraid of the fellow, even although he might have a weapon concealed in one of the drawers, for I knew I had drawn his fangs.  This open avowal on my part was sufficient to convince one of his stripe that I was concerned only with my own interests.  Whatever suspicion he may have previously entertained regarding my relations with the lady were now thoroughly evaporated.  Assured in his own mind that Philip had never been married, he was now easily convinced that I had merely associated myself with a girl from the streets, whom I was only too glad to desert upon any plausible excuse.  His words confirmed my judgment.

“Well said, my man.  Now we begin to understand each other.  Of course I have the proofs.  I would be a fool to sit in such a game without a winning hand.  Sit down, both of you, while we talk this over.  There is no reason why the three of us should not be friends, providing you are sensible.”

She had never removed her gaze from me, standing white-faced and rigid, as though unable to fully comprehend.  I doubt if she heard, to distinguish, a syllable he spoke, her every thought centered on my renunciation.

“But—­but I am his wife,” she panted indignantly.  “Philip Henley’s wife.  I—­I showed you our certificate.”

“A fake, a forgery,” asserted the other roughly, before I could find voice.  “You had it framed up all right, if you had never run across me.  Show me the paper.”

“I cannot, for it is not here.  I placed it in my valise back at that house.”  She stepped forward with hands held out toward me.  “But you know—­Gordon Craig, you know.  I could not have forged that; I had not time; no information which would have led to such an act.  You tell him so.”

“I hardly think he will, Madam,” returned the Captain shortly, evidently feeling it better not to let me speak.  “And there is no use going on with this any farther.  Answer me a question or two, that is all.  Did n’t Craig tell you why he was coming down here?”

“Yes,” the single word scarcely audible.

“He explained to you in detail what was expected of him?”

“Yes.”

“Some hours before you left, was n’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Then you had sufficient time, and knowledge to complete your plans.  When did you first tell Craig you were Philip Henley’s wife?”

I clinched my hands at the bewildered embarrassment in her eyes, at the sneer in the voice of the questioner, yet held myself silent.

“It was after we came here; when I was frightened, and felt that I must confess the truth.  I—­I had begun to trust him.”

“Oh, indeed, and you failed to tell him at first because you did not trust him.”

“Partially that—­yes.  Although I do not think the name Henley was even mentioned during our first interview.  I am sure I did not realize it was my husband’s father who was dead until later.”