“It seems possible,” said Mr. Altham, not without enthusiasm, understanding that “doctor” meant “doctor,” and which doctor.
“We have all noticed how many visits he has been paying to—to Dr. Jones,” said Mrs. Altham, “during the time Mrs. Smith was away. But to pay another one on the very evening of her return looks as if—as if something serious was the matter.”
“My dear, there’s nothing whatever to show that Major Ames went to the doctor’s last night,” he said.
Mrs. Altham gave him an awful glance, for the parlour-maid was in the room, and this thoughtless remark rendered all the diplomatic substitution of another nomenclature entirely void and useless.
“Mrs. Smith, I should say,” added Mr. Altham in some confusion, proceeding to make it all quite clear to Jane, in case she had any doubts about it.
“Suggest to me any other reasonable theory as to where he was, then,” said Mrs. Altham.
“I can’t suggest where he was, my dear,” said Mr. Altham, finding his legal training supported him, “considering that there is no evidence of any kind that bears upon the matter. But to know that a man was not in one given place does not show with any positiveness that he was at any other given place.”
“No doubt, then, he went shopping at half-past ten last night,” said Mrs. Altham, with deep sarcasm. “There are so many shops open then. The High Street is a perfect blaze of light.”
Mr. Altham could be sarcastic, too, though he seldom exercised this gift.
“It quite dazzles one,” he observed.