Then he absently pulled out his original one and glanced at it before tearing it up; and before he realized what he did his eye caught: "To Count Mimo Sykypri"-- he did not read the address--"Immediately, to-morrow, wire me your news.

Cherisette." And ere his rage burst in a terrible oath he noticed that stamps were enclosed.

Then he threw the paper with violence into the fire! There was not any more doubt nor speculation; a woman did not sign herself "Cherisette"-- "little darling"-- except to a lover! Cherisette! He was so mad with rage that if she had come into the room at that moment he would have strangled her, there and then.
He forgot that it was time to dress for dinner--forgot everything but his overmastering fury.

He paced up and down the room, and then after a while, as ever, his balance returned.

The law could give him no redress yet: she certainly had not been unfaithful to him in their brief married life, and the law recks little of sins committed before the tie.