At nine o'clock that night Sheila, who had waited all the afternoon in agonized ignorance, beheld Bofinger burst in with the fury of the storm that was raging without. One glance at his wild figure and blood-ridden face told her all. She fell on her knees shrieking,

"Alonzo, don't hurt me!"

"Get up!" he said hoarsely. "Get up quick and sit over there! And answer everything I say or I swear I'll do for you!"

She obeyed instantly, saying hurriedly:

"Alonzo, I'll tell you the truth—every word of it!"

"When did you sign those papers?" he asked, each word interrupted by a gasp.

"What papers?" she cried, for in her ignorance of their import she had totally forgotten the transaction. "What papers, Alonzo—tell me!"

"The papers—those papers—the papers Fargus got you to sign—your permission for the sale of the restaurants."

"Yes, yes, I remember," she said eagerly, "the day he left for Mexico."

"You signed—willingly!"

"Yes."

"Why, in God's name!"

She hesitated.

"Why!"

"I'll tell, I'll tell you," she cried, throwing up her arm, and brokenly she told him of the mine.

"Oh, that fiend! That devil!" he cried, forgetting her for a moment in his consternation at the malignant ingenuity with which he had been ruined. The next moment, turning to her furiously, he shouted:

"And you thought by concealing it from me you could cheat me out of my share! Didn't you—didn't you!"

"Yes."

"You fool!" he cried in a paroxysm, "and what has it cost you? Fargus sold out the next day and you lost every cent of your dower. Ruined, that's what we are! Ruined, without a cent in the world to-day!"

In her fear for her life she thought to moderate his fury by pretending to fall in a swoon. He ran to her angrily, shaking her without drawing from her a sound. Then, leaving her sprawling, he began to pace up and down the floor.

Presently, in terror of what he might do, she half opened her eyes. Imperceptible as was the movement he perceived it and seizing her by the shoulder swept her up into a chair.

"Get your wits back. Hurry up, I haven't any time to lose," he said.

In his present manner was something venomous and cold that terrified her more than all the transports of his rage. From that moment she thought only how she might manage to reach the front door and escape from the house. She opened her eyes with a sigh and sat up weakly.

"Do you owe any bills?" he began.

"A few."

"Where?"

She enumerated half a dozen stores.

"Do you owe anything on your jewelry?"

"Not a cent."

He breathed a little more freely.

"Take off your rings," he commanded.

She slipped off, hurriedly, seven glittering rings.

"Put them on that table."

She obeyed.

"Take off them bracelets."

She flung them on the table.

"And the pins."

In her haste, she pulled off the brooches, pricking her finger and, without waiting his command added the gold chain she wore about her neck.

"Now go up-stairs."

She ran up, trembling to feel him behind her.

"Gather up your jewels, gather up every one of them," he commanded, following her into her room.

She made a pile, putting into it everything, even to the silver on her bureau.

"Take them down-stairs."

Again they descended.

"Put them with the rest."

When all were on the table, he raised his eyes and said:

"So you knew all the time about his going to Mexico?"

"Yes," she said faintly.

"And you played me false all the time?"

She noticed that his hand began to tremble and edged away until with a spring she placed the table between them.

"Come back," he said, glowering at her.

She did not move.

"Come back, I tell you!"

"Don't kill me, Alonzo," she said faintly.

"I'm not going to kill you. Come back you—!" he cried with a vile expression.

Suddenly the door-bell rang, long and violently.

Both halted in throbbing surprise, so incongruous did an intrusion seem at such a crisis.

A second time the bell rang angrily, accompanied by a shower of knocks. Sheila started to the door.

"Stay there!" Bofinger cried, and advancing with a guilty fear he went to the door and opened it.

In the midst of a cloud of snow Sammamon rushed in, a warrant in his hand.

"Hell!" Bofinger cried, appalled by the apparition, and rushing to the table he tried to screen the heap of jewelry from the money-lender, shouting desperately, "Sammamon, get out of here! Sammamon, do you hear me, get out! I'll do you harm!"

The money-lender, whom losses had made frantic and courageous, did not flinch a minute. Rushing past him, he spied the jewels and divined the lawyer's purpose.

"You run away with them, eh! You swindler!" he cried violently. "You touch one thing, you go in jail! Everythings here is mine!"

"Keep your hands off," Bofinger cried. "Those belong to my wife, you can't touch them!"

"KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF."

"Touch, eh?" he screamed, "don't she owes me five thousand dollars!"

"Sheila, you owe him—that hound?" he cried, reeling back. "Is that true?"

"He came himself! He offered it to me!" she cried, and turning in terror to the money-lender she pleaded, "Mr. Sammamon, don't leave me, he's going to kill me!"

Sammamon gave no heed,—he was busy inscribing on his cuff the inventory of the jewelry.

"Kill you? That's too good for the likes of you," Bofinger cried, starting forward, "I'll fix you. Out on the street you go where you belong! Get out of here, get out of this house at once!"

"On the streets? To-night?" she cried in terror. "Without a cent?"

"Go out and earn it, the way you're fit for!" he said brutally. Then with an oath he extended his hand and commanded:

"Get out of those clothes."

"Bofinger," she cried in terror, "have mercy!"

"Take it off!" he said with an ugly look. "Not a rag belongs to you. Every stitch you have ought to go towards paying what you swindled me out of!"

She dropped on her knees, stretching out her hands.

"Not like that, Alonzo, not like that!"

"Take it off!" he cried in a fury, and as she made no move he seized the collar in his hands and tore it open. Sheila fell forward. On the bare neck flashed a necklace of small diamonds, which she had bought with the money from Sammamon.

"That was it, was it!" Bofinger cried, beside himself with rage at this new deception. He seized the necklace and tore it from her, flinging it on the floor. On the neck a spot of blood sprang up.

She staggered to her feet and fled to the door. When she had got it open such a blast upset her, driving in the snow, that she shrank back piteously, begging,

"Alonzo, dear, don't turn me out. Let me stay for pity's sake!"

"Ah, you won't go, won't you!" he cried, and the sight of the blood on her bare neck unloosed the brute in him. He ran in a rage to the fireplace and snatched up the shovel. Sheila shrieked and disappeared into the storm and the night.