Mr. Dyceworthy laughed gently. "Dear me, dear me!" he remarked sweetly. "How pretty we look in a passion, to be sure! And we talk of our 'betrothed husband' do we? Tut-tut! Put that dream out of your mind, my dear girl--Sir Philip Bruce-Errington will have nothing to do with you after your little escapade of to-night! Your honor is touched!--yes, yes! and honor is everything to such a man as he. As for the 'card' you talk about, I never sent a card--not I!" Mr. Dyceworthy made this assertion in a tone of injured honesty. "Why should I! No--no! You came here of your own accord,--that is certain and--" here he spoke more slowly and with a certain malicious glee, "I shall have no difficulty in proving it to be so, should the young man Errington ask me for an explanation! Now you had better give me a kiss and make the peace! There's not a soul in the place who will believe anything you say against me; you, a reputed witch, and I, a minister of the Gospel. For your father I care nothing, a poor sinful pagan can never injure a servant of the Lord. Come now, let me have that kiss! I have been very patient--I am sure I deserve it!"
There was a sudden rushing movement in the room, and a slight cry.
"If you touch me!" cried Thelma, "I will kill you! I will! God will help me!"
Again Mr. Dyceworthy laughed sneeringly. "God will help you!" he exclaimed as though in wonder. "As if God ever helped a Roman! Fröken Thelma, be sensible. By your strange visit to me to-night you have ruined your already damaged character--I say you have ruined it,--and if anything remains to be said against you, I can say it--moreover, I will!"
A crash of breaking window-glass followed these words, and before Mr. Dyceworthy could realize what had happened, he was pinioned against his own wall by an active, wiry, excited individual, whose black eyes sparkled with gratified rage, whose clenched fist was dealing him severe thumps all over his fat body.
"Ha, ha! You will, will you!" cried Duprèz, literally dancing up against him and squeezing him as though he were a jelly. "You will tell lies in the service of le Bon Dieu? No--not quite, not yet!" And still pinioning him with one hand, he dragged at his collar with the other till he succeeded, in spite of the minister's unwieldly efforts to defend himself, in rolling him down upon the floor, where he knelt upon him in triumph. "Voilà! Je sais faire la boxe, moi!" Then turning to Thelma, who stood an amazed spectator of the scene, her flushed cheeks and tear-swollen eyes testifying to the misery of the hours she had passed, he said, "Run, Mademoiselle, run! The little Britta is outside, she has a pony-car--she will drive you home. I will stay here till Phil-eep comes. I shall enjoy myself! I will begin--Phil-eep with finish! Then we will return to you."