"I want those letters," repeated Lord Atherton; "bring them to me at
once. Remember, they are useless to you; you will never force one mere
farthing from Lady Atherton--your keeping them will be useless."

"It will be more to my interest to keep them," sneered Allan Lyster;
"they are interesting documents, and I can show them to those who will
not judge the matter in so onesided a manner as your lordship."

"You may publish them, if you please," said Lord Atherton, "but I will
take care that every line in them brands you with red hot shame. You
shall publish them, and I will make all England ring with the story of
your infamy. I will make every honest man loathe you."

"You cannot," said Allan Lyster.

"I can. Englishmen like fair play. I will tell all England how you took
advantage of a girl's youth and inexperience, above all, of the fact of
her being an orphan, to beguile her into making you a promise of
marriage, and how since you have traded, you coward, on her weakness, on
her love for her husband, on the best part of her nature; and I will
tell my story so honestly, so well, that every honest man shall hate
you. You may have frightened my poor wife with shadows, you cannot so
frighten me. I tell you, and I am speaking truthfully, that I do not
care if you print her letters and every man, woman and child read them;
they shall read my vindication of her and my denunciation of you."

"You see, Lord Atherton, she did promise to marry me, and I did reckon
upon her fortune. What will you give me for the letters?"