“Not for several days. In fact, I have never been perfectly sure till this evening.”
“Really?”
“Yes; you see it did not occur to me for some time that there was any connection between my wife’s visitor and the—the victim.” Here the poor fellow shuddered. “Her manner was slightly constrained, and I saw she was depressed, but I thought that a natural result of the coolness that had arisen between us. I soon found out, however, that although our strained relations might weigh on her somewhat, the chief cause of her trouble was the murder. She hardly ever spoke of it, but I could see that it was never out of her mind. She used to send out for all the papers and pore over them by the hour, and was so nervous that it was positively painful to be in the room with her. She would start and scream with or without provocation. Another peculiarity she developed was an extreme disinclination to leaving the house. She went out on Thursday afternoon, I believe, but from that day to the time of Argot’s arrest I don’t think she ever left the building unless I insisted on it. And another queer thing she did, was to stand behind the curtains and peer at your house. I would catch her doing this at all hours of the day and night. Then I began to wonder more and more why this murder had such an effect on her. I read and re-read all that was printed about it, and suddenly it came to me that no hat had been found with the body. I searched the papers again feverishly. I had not been mistaken. Every article of clothing was carefully enumerated, but no hat was mentioned. It was then I first suspected that the dead man and my wife’s visitor were one and the same person. It was an awful moment, Doctor.”
He paused a while to control his emotions. “After that I kept continually puzzling as to how the fellow could have come by his death. Thank God, I was quite sure my little wife had no hand in that! You say Argot killed him; perhaps he did, though I can’t imagine why or how. As soon as Mrs. Atkins heard that the Frenchman had been arrested her whole manner changed. Her nervousness disappeared as if by magic, and to-day she resumed her usual mode of life. She has even talked about the murder occasionally. But the barrier between us has not diminished. I can not forget that she concealed that man’s visit from me. I have longed, yet dreaded, to have the police discover his identity, fearing that if they did his connection with my wife would also come out; and yet so anxious am I to know the nature of that connection as to be willing to run almost any risk to discover the truth. But things have come to a crisis to-night. We can no longer go on living side by side with this secret between us. She must tell me what there was between them. And now, when I can bear the suspense no longer, you insist that she must not be excited.”
I felt terribly sorry for the poor fellow, and hesitated what to advise.
“Get a good doctor,” I said at last, “and have Mrs. Atkins’s heart examined. Her trouble may not be as serious as I think it is, and in that case there would be no further need of caution.”
“Won’t you undertake the case?”
“Have you no family physician?”