“You have a very concise and, I must say, a most straightforward mode of regarding a subject, sir,” said Crowther, blandly. “There is an admirable clearness in your views, and a most business-like promptitude in your deductions; but we, poor moles of the law, are condemned to work in a very different fashion; and, to be brief, here is a case that requires the very nicest management. To enable Madame Carew to take out letters of administration to her late husband's property, we must prove her marriage. Now, so far as I can see, sir, this is a matter of considerable difficulty.”
“Why, you would not dare to assert—to insinuate even—”
“Nothing of the kind, sir. Pray be calm, Mr. Mac-Naghten. I am as incapable of such a thought as yourself. Of the fact, I entertain no more doubt than you do. The proof of it,—the legal proof,—however, I am most anxious to obtain.”
“But, with search amongst his papers—”
“Very true, sir; it may be discovered. I have no doubt it will be discovered. I only mean to say that such a document is not to be met with amongst those in my hands, and I have very carefully gone over a large packet, labelled 'Papers and letters relating to France during my last residence there in '80-81,' which, you may remember, was the period of his marriage.”
“But he alludes to that event?”
“Not once, sir; there is not a single passage that even bears upon it. There are adventures of various kinds, curious incidents, many of them in love, play, and gallantry; but of marriage, or even of any speculation on the subject, not the remotest mention.”
“This is most singular!”
“Is it not so, sir? But I have thought, perhaps, that you, who were always his most attached friend,—you, at least, possessed some letters which should throw light upon this matter, even to indicate the exact date of it, where it occurred, who the witnesses.”
“Not a line, not a syllable,” said MacNaghten, with a sigh.