“I engaged her—­”

“While I was away?  While I was in total ignorance that you meant to have a wife, or a wife’s maid?”

“Yes.”

“Under those circumstances, Mr. Noel, you cannot possibly suspect me of conspiring to deceive you, with the maid for my instrument.  Go into the house, sir, while I wait here.  Ask the woman who dresses Mrs. Noel Vanstone’s hair morning and night whether her mistress has a mark on the left side of her neck, and (if so) what that mark is?”

He walked a few steps toward the house without uttering a word, then stopped, and looked back at Mrs. Lecount.  His blinking eyes were steady, and his wizen face had become suddenly composed.  Mrs. Lecount advanced a little and joined him.  She saw the change; but, with all her experience of him, she failed to interpret the true meaning of it.

“Are you in want of a pretense, sir?” she asked.  “Are you at a loss to account to your wife’s maid for such a question as I wish you to put to her?  Pretenses are easily found which will do for persons in her station of life.  Say I have come here with news of a legacy for Mrs. Noel Vanstone, and that there is a question of her identity to settle before she can receive the money.”

She pointed to the house.  He paid no attention to the sign.  His face grew paler and paler.  Without moving or speaking he stood and looked at her.

“Are you afraid?” asked Mrs. Lecount.

Those words roused him; those words lit a spark of the fire of manhood in him at last.  He turned on her like a sheep on a dog.

“I won’t be questioned and ordered!” he broke out, trembling violently under the new sensation of his own courage.  “I won’t be threatened and mystified any longer!  How did you find me out at this place?  What do you mean by coming here with your hints and your mysteries?  What have you got to say against my wife?”

Mrs. Lecount composedly opened the traveling-bag and took out her smelling bottle, in case of emergency.

“You have spoken to me in plain words,” she said.  “In plain words, sir, you shall have your answer.  Are you too angry to listen?”

Her looks and tones alarmed him, in spite of himself.  His courage began to sink again; and, desperately as he tried to steady it, his voice trembled when he answered her.

“Give me my answer,” he said, “and give it at once.”

“Your commands shall be obeyed, sir, to the letter,” replied Mrs. Lecount.  “I have come here with two objects.  To open your eyes to your own situation, and to save your fortune—­perhaps your life.  Your situation is this.  Miss Bygrave has married you under a false character and a false name.  Can you rouse your memory?  Can you call to mind the disguised woman who threatened you in Vauxhall Walk?  That woman—­as certainly as I stand here—­is now your wife.”

He looked at her in breathless silence, his lips falling apart, his eyes fixed in vacant inquiry.  The suddenness of the disclosure had overreached its own end.  It had stupefied him.