"Well, well, that will come. I believe in your future, Bob. You will have all you wish for--an income, a name, and a wife."
"A wife!" Ellis turned restlessly in the comfortable old arm-chair, and laughed in a somewhat embarrassed fashion. "A wife!" he repeated doubtfully.
"Of course; you don't intend to remain single all your days, do you? You must marry, Bob, for a doctor without a wife, a tactful wife, mind you, is like a coach without wheels. I hope, however," and here Harry's tone became serious, "that you will not marry a widow."
"A widow! I don't quite understand."
"Or," continued Cass, inattentive to the interpolation, "or the wife of a man who has met with a violent death."
"Harry, what makes you think that Mrs. Moxton--" So far Ellis proceeded violently, then stopped with the conviction that he had betrayed his secret.
"The cap fits, I see," remarked Cass, pointedly, and shut up in his turn.
For the next few minutes there was an embarrassed silence, neither man being willing to speak, lest a word should act like a spark in a powder magazine. Ellis threw down his pipe, and, as was his fashion when annoyed, took to rapid walking in the limited space of the sitting-room. Cass eased his position on the sofa and waited developments.
"Yes, it is true," said the doctor, in a loud voice, so as to drown opposition. "I am in love with Mrs. Moxton. Now, what do you say?"
"Only this. It is hard enough for you to make a career without seeking for a clog which will prevent you rising in your profession."