"Well, I presume so. You were married to him," said Mallow, somewhat bewildered.
"I was married to some one, yes; but is that some one Angus Carson?"
Mallow jumped up hurriedly.
"You are not thinking of that absurd story I told you?"
"I am. Not that I think it absurd now. On the contrary, I am coming to believe more in the sense of it each hour."
"No, no," said Mallow. "I made every possible inquiry in London immediately before your marriage. I visited Athelstane Place; I questioned the police. But I could find nothing, absolutely nothing, to connect your husband in ever so remote a degree with that murder. Besides, look at the facts in his favour. Mr. Brock recognized him simply from his resemblance to his father, and his appearance corresponds exactly with the description of him given by Mrs. Purcell, even to the wearing of his bangle."
"I don't remember seeing him wear the wrist-buttons," said Olive. "Women, you know, are observant of these little things. Do you remember Mrs. Slarge reading out her sister's letter in the presence of Angus?"
"Yes, perfectly. It was then Carson showed us the bangle."
"Yes. Well, I looked then for these wrist-buttons, but I noticed he wore silver sleeve-links."
"On that particular occasion, perhaps?"