"If you had met my aunt in London, of course you would have known. But she does not visit or entertain anyone. You knew she was in London?"
"Yes."
"But you never saw her?"
"Yes, once."
"Oh, I did not know that. When?"
"A long time ago. It was quite a casual and unimportant meeting. Oh, Mr. Walcott, who is that terrible woman?"
They were out of the building by this time, standing on the pavement. Graham had called a cab, and whilst they were waiting for it to draw up Lettice had become aware of a strikingly-dressed woman, with painted face and bold eyes, who was planting herself in front of them, and staring at her with a mocking laugh.
Alan was horrified to see that it was his wife who stood before them, with the mad demoniac look in her eyes which he knew too well.
"Alan, my dear Alan," she cried in a shrill voice, causing everyone to look round at the group, "tell her this terrible woman's name! Tell her that I am your wife, the wife that you have plunged into misery and starvation——"
"For heaven's sake!" said Alan, turning to Graham, "where is your cab? Take them away quickly!"