“I fail to follow you, Sir Eustace. Whose husband?”
“The lady’s husband.”
“What lady?”
“God bless my soul, Pagett, the lady you met in Florence. There must have been a lady. Don’t tell me that you merely robbed a church or stabbed an Italian in the back because you didn’t like his face.”
“I am quite at a loss to understand you, Sir Eustace. I suppose you are joking.”
“I am an amusing fellow sometimes, when I take the trouble, but I can assure you that I am not trying to be funny this minute.”
“I hoped that as I was a good way off you had not recognized me, Sir Eustace.”
“Recognized you where?”
“At Marlow, Sir Eustace?”
“At Marlow? What the devil were you doing at Marlow?”