"Then Arthur," she said hesitantly, "never…?"
"Played the rip?" said H.M. "No. He was a crook financially. But he was a strictly faithful husband. He said, and believed it himself, that there wasn't a happier couple in England than himself and his wife."
Vicky put her hands over her eyes.
H.M. looked uncomfortable.
"But maybe," he went on, puffing out a cloud of poisonous smoke, "I'd better take the story from the beginning.
"Now, I had my eye on Uncle Hubert from the start. Maybe he reminded me of a certain blighter I once knew years ago. But never mind that. The closer you looked at him, the fishier everything about him seemed.
"For instance, he liked to play the part of the paternal uncle, the father of his female friends, the 'dear old gentleman' who had only benevolent advice for young ladies. But he wasn't old, unless you're young enough to consider the middle-fifties old. And what did we hear about him from Dr. Rich, the man who'd been his doctor and ought to know?"
H.M. craned his neck round and peered at Rich, who was gloomily regarding the floor.
"Do you remember savin', son, that you could have understood it very well if the charge of hypnotizing a woman in order to seduce her had been made against Hubert Fane?"
"I do," said Rich.