Indeed, I think I am come in the very nick of time." He drew a sheet of paper from an inside pocket of his coat and slapped it down upon the table.

"There is the wherewithal to hang your fine husband," he announced in triumph.
She recoiled.

"To hang him ?" she echoed.

With all her aversion to Mr.
Wilding it was plain she did not wish him hanged.
"Aye, to hang him," Richard repeated, and drew himself to the full height of his short stature in pride at the thing he had achieved.

"Read it." She took the paper almost mechanically, and for some moments she studied the crabbed signature before realizing whose it was.