“Upon—­my—­honour—­I know nothing about her,” were the first words which Cradell was able to articulate, when Lupex, under Eames’s persuasion, at last relaxed his hold.

Lupex turned round to Miss Spruce with a sardonic grin.  “You hear his words,—­this enemy to domestic bliss,—­ Ha, ha! man, tell me whither you have conveyed my wife!”

“If you were to give me the Bank of England I don’t know,” said Cradell.

“And I’m sure he does not know,” said Mrs Roper, whose suspicions against Cradell were beginning to subside.  But as her suspicions subsided, her respect for him decreased.  Such was the case also with Miss Spruce, and with Amelia, and with Jemima.  They had all thought him to be a great fool for running away with Mrs Lupex, but now they were beginning to think him a poor creature because he had not done so.  Had he committed that active folly he would have been an interesting fool.  But now, if, as they all suspected, he knew no more about Mrs Lupex than they did, he would be a fool without any special interest whatever.

“Of course he doesn’t,” said Eames.

“No more than I do,” said Amelia.

“His very looks show him innocent,” said Mrs Roper.

“Indeed they do,” said Miss Spruce.

Lupex turned from one to the other as they thus defended the man whom he suspected, and shook his head at each assertion that was made.  “And if he doesn’t know who does?” he asked.  “Haven’t I seen it all for the last three months?  Is it reasonable to suppose that a creature such as she, used to domestic comforts all her life, should have gone off in this way, at dinner-time, taking with her my property and all her jewels, and that nobody should have instigated her; nobody assisted her!  Is that a story to tell to such a man as me!  You may tell it to the marines!” Mr Lupex, as he made this speech, was walking about the room, and as he finished it he threw his pocket-handkerchief with violence on to the floor.  “I know what to do, Mrs Roper,” he said.  “I know what steps to take.  I shall put the affair into the hands of my lawyer to-morrow morning.”  Then he picked up his handkerchief and walked down into the dining-room.

“Of course you know nothing about it?” said Eames to his friend, having run upstairs for the purpose of saying a word to him while he washed his hands.

“What,—­about Maria?  I don’t know where she is, if you mean that.”

“Of course I mean that.  What else should I mean?  And what makes you call her Maria?”

“It is wrong.  I admit it’s wrong.  The word will come out, you know.”

“Will come out!  I’ll tell you what it is, old fellow, you’ll get yourself into a mess, and all for nothing.  That fellow will have you up before the police for stealing his things—­”

“But, Johnny—­”

“I know all about it.  Of course you have not stolen them, and of course there was nothing to steal.  But if you go on calling her Maria you’ll find that he’ll have a pull on you.  Men don’t call other men’s wives names for nothing.”