“You must pardon my short-sightedness.  I did not recognize you, Mr. Ransom.”

“Did not want to,” muttered Gerridge, satisfied in his own mind that this man was only deterred by his marked and unmistakable physiognomy from denying the acquaintanceship just advanced.

“Your congratulations did not produce the desired effect,” continued Mr. Ransom.  “My happiness was short lived.  Perhaps you knew its uncertain tenure when you wished me joy.  I remember that your tone lacked sincerity.”

It was a direct attack.  Whether a wise one or not remained to be seen.  Gerridge watched the unfolding drama with interest.

“I have reason to think,” proceeded Mr. Ransom, “that the unhappy termination of that day’s felicities were in a measure due to you.  You seem to know my bride very well; much too well for her happiness or mine.”

“We will argue that question in my room,” was the unmoved reply.  “The open hall is quite unsuited to a conversation of this nature.  Now,” said he, turning upon them when they were in the privacy of his small but not uncomfortable apartment, “you will be kind enough to repeat what you just said.  I wish to thoroughly understand you.”

“You have the right,” returned Mr. Ransom, controlling himself under the detective’s eye.  “I said that your presence at this wedding seemed to disturb my wife, which fact, considering the after occurrences of the day, strikes me as important enough for discussion.  Are you willing to discuss it affably and fairly?”

“May I ask who your companion is?” inquired the other, with a slight inclination towards Gerridge.

“A friend; one who is in my confidence.”

“Then I will answer you without any further hesitation.  My presence may have disturbed your wife, it very likely did, but I was not to blame for that.  No man is to blame for the bad effects of an unfortunate accident.”

“Oh, I don’t mean that,” Mr. Ransom hastened to protest.  “The cause of her very evident agitation was not personal.  It had a deeper root than that.  It led, or so I believe, to her flight from a love she cherished, at a moment when our mutual life seemed about to begin.”

The impassive, I might almost say set features of this man of violent passions but remarkable self-restraint failed to relax or give any token of the feelings with which he listened to this attack.

“Then the news given of your wife in the papers to-night is false,” was his quiet retort.  “It professes to give a distinct, if somewhat fantastic, reason for her flight.  A reason totally different from the one you suggest.”

“A reason you don’t believe in?”

“Certainly not.  It is too bizarre.”

“I share your incredulity.  That is why I seek the truth from you rather than from the columns of a newspaper.  And you owe me this truth.  You have broken up my life.”

“I?  That’s a strange accusation you make, Mr. Ransom.”