Miss Carr, or Miss Orchard, or Mrs. Paslow--Beatrice thought of her by all these three names--smiled quietly when her husband made the confession, and sank gracefully into the seat he had vacated. She was certainly a handsome woman, and if not entirely a lady, was an extremely good imitation of the same. Vivian still stood as in a dream, staring at the wife he had believed to be dead and buried, and Beatrice stared alternately at him and at the strange woman. A silence ensued, for each of the three was thinking hard. Beatrice was the first to break silence.

"Will you explain?" she asked Vivian quietly.

"I think," he answered in a harsh, dry tone, "that my wife had better explain. I have the certificate of her death, and----"

"And you can consider it so much waste-paper. The woman who was buried was my double," said Mrs. Paslow composedly.

"You cannot deceive me in that way, Maud. I saw you ill in bed."

"And so I was. I had a bad attack of influenza," said his wife, with a calm smile. "Oh, my illness was genuine enough; but I did not die,--although I appeared to do so, for reasons connected with a second marriage."

"With Mr. Paslow's marriage to me?" asked Beatrice, striving to regain her calmness, and emulate the sang-froid of this cold, audacious woman, who appeared to have no feelings.

"Well, no," drawled Mrs. Paslow, "not exactly. I never did care to benefit my fellow-creatures to that extent. I refer to a marriage I wished to make with a rich American. However, his mother stopped the marriage, and I found myself without a natural protector. Therefore, as I heard from Major Ruck that Vivian proposed to make you his wife, I came here to save you, and stop him from committing bigamy."

"Which you just now proposed to commit yourself?" said Beatrice, with cold contempt.

Mrs. Paslow looked at her between half-closed eyelids, and shrugged her finely moulded shoulders. "Quite so," she said politely; "but I have my reasons for risking imprisonment."

"Reasons connected with money," sneered Vivian.

"Connected with over a million--pounds, not dollars. Well?"

"Well,"--he faced her squarely--"and what do you propose to do now?"

"One moment," interposed Beatrice, now perfectly calm, and determined to break down this woman's composure; "I should like to know how you carried out this plot of a feigned death."

There was a case of cigarettes on the table belonging to Vivian: Mrs. Paslow cast a disdainful, and rather amused look on Beatrice, and lighted one of the little rolls of tobacco. When the smoke was wreathing round her fashionable hat, she spoke with great calmness and appeared in no way upset by the imperious tone of the woman whom her husband loved. "Certainly," she replied in a low, sweet voice, which seemed to be one of her greatest charms, and she had many. "As I explained, I wanted to be free of Vivian to marry a richer man than he was, or is likely to be. When I was ill, and he came to see me, the plan suggested itself. I took the doctor into my confidence, and he agreed, for a consideration, to forward my aims. My double was really ill,--oh yes, with consumption; she could not live, so----"

"What do you mean by your double?" asked Beatrice abruptly.

"Vivian can tell you. He knew of my double."

"I did,--I do: but I did not think you would pass her off as yourself, Maud."

Mrs. Paslow removed the cigarette from her mouth and smiled. "It was a capital plot," she said musingly; "and but that I want you to be again my husband, would have succeeded."

"What about your double?" asked Beatrice pertinaciously.

"Oh, she was not a twin sister, as you seem to think. I am the only daughter and only child of Joseph Orchard, who was a butler, and is a shepherd. You see," she added, leaning her arms on the table and addressing her rival in an amused tone, "I have no false pride about me. When occasion serves I can say that I am the daughter of an army officer, or of a clergyman, or of anyone with a position. I have done such things in my time. But to you I can be frank, since there is nothing to be gained by telling lies."

"Your double--your double, Miss Carr, or Miss Orchard?"

"Neither name is mine. Mrs. Paslow, if you please. Unless"--she glanced contemptuously at Vivian--"my husband denies----"

"I deny nothing. I cannot," he said savagely. "Say what you have to say, Maud, and then I shall tell Miss Hall how we met and into what troubles you led me."

"Miss Hall!" echoed Mrs. Paslow, with a glance at Beatrice. "Then you know that, do you?"

"How do you know?" asked Beatrice, pointedly.

"Oh, my father told me long ago. Later I might have made capital out of the affair, but now----" She shrugged again.

"I believe that you are a bad woman," said Beatrice hotly.

"I am--what God made me," retorted Mrs. Paslow, in no wise disturbed by the speech. "But about my double. She was a girl on the stage extremely like me: in fact we might have passed for twins. I also went on the stage--I have done most things in my time; and we--that is Miss Arthur my double and myself--appeared in a play as twins. If you knew anything of the theatre, Miss Hall, you would be surprised to hear how successful that play was. The author was unknown and Major Ruck financed the play, and----"

"I want to hear nothing about that, Mrs. Paslow. I know now how you carried out the deception, though it seems to me that as you did not let Vivian see the dead body, it was needless to have this double."

"Well," admitted Mrs. Paslow apologetically, as though excusing a fault, "it was necessary to make sure. Vivian, after a few visits, never came near me----"

"The doctor would not let me," said her husband quickly.

"Good old doctor," murmured Mrs. Paslow, selecting a fresh cigarette; "he knew what I wanted. However, to make a long story short, Miss Arthur died in my place and was buried under my name. You have the certificate, my dear Vivian, so all is well. You were so easily deceived that there was no fun in deceiving you. A clever man would have made more certain of his wife's death before arranging to take another one, especially as you were cheated once before."

"I did hear that you were dead before Mr. Alpenny was murdered, and I then asked Miss Hall here to be my wife," confessed Vivian; "afterwards, Major Ruck told me that you were alive, but ill. I went to see you, and you really seemed to be dying----"

"I am a good actress, Vivian. I was on the stage, remember."

"So I thought, when I saw the doctor and got the certificate, that you were really and truly dead. Oh, I shall see that the doctor is punished for this deception."

"I think not," said Mrs. Paslow, narrowing her eyes and looking at him very directly. "No doubt he will be punished in time, but not by your will, Vivian dear."

The tone and words were so peculiar and significant that Beatrice looked straight at the woman, who now had a mocking smile on her face, and spoke quietly: "You have some power over Mr. Paslow?"

"Why not call him Vivian?" sneered the stranger. "He was"--she emphasised the word--"to be your husband, remember."

"If you speak like that," said Paslow standing over her and speaking in a low, angry voice, "I shall forget that I am your husband."

His wife glanced slightingly at Beatrice. "It seems to me that you have forgotten," she scoffed.

What the infuriated man would have said or done on the spur of the moment, it is impossible to say; but he was dangerous. Beatrice saw that, and drew him back with an exclamation. "Don't," she said quickly; "let her say what she will. It cannot hurt me. And let me remind you, Mrs. Paslow, that you have not answered my question."

"Nor do I intend to," said the woman, rising and throwing aside the cigarette. The contemptuous words of Beatrice stung her not a little. "This is my husband, and I want him to return to town with me."

"You are my wife," said Vivian in quiet anger, "and you were willing to commit bigamy after deceiving me by a feigned death. I refuse to have anything more to do with you."

"The law will make you!" she threatened.

"The law will do nothing of the sort. As my wife, I will allow you enough to live on; but no law will ever make me have anything to do with you again."

"Then I shall make you!"

"Ah," interposed Beatrice, "you exercise this power?"

"I want my husband," said the woman sullenly.

"I refuse to have anything to do with you," retorted Paslow once more. His wife was rapidly losing her temper. She had come prepared for victory; and, meeting with this opposition, all the disdainful certainty of her assumed nature wore away, and the coarser feelings became apparent. Her face flushed a dark red, the expression changed, and instead of a quiet, ladylike person, Beatrice saw before her a virago of the worst. "You shall come!" she shouted, "or rather, I shall stay here. This is my house, and you,"--she turned on Beatrice,--"you shall leave it."

"I am here with Mr. Paslow's sister, and I decline to leave it at the word of a disgraced wife."

"I!" Mrs. Paslow sprang forward with upraised fist. "You dare to say that to me, you----" Before she could strike, Vivian caugh............