“That’s the wife of the man I mean.”
“Never knew she had a husband,” said Gorman. “She keeps him very dark. But that sort of woman often keeps her husband in the background. I suppose he exists simply to earn what she spends.”
“That’s it. He’s a dentist. I rather wonder you haven’t heard of him. He’s quite at the top of the tree; the sort of dentist who charges two guineas for looking at your front tooth and an extra guinea if he tells you there’s a hole in it.”
“I expect he needs it all,” said Gorman, “to keep Mrs. Searsby going. But what the devil has he got to do with Madame Ypsilante. I can’t imagine her compromising herself with a man whose own wife is ashamed to produce him.”
Dane-Latimer smiled. “I told you it was nothing of that sort,” he said. “In fact it’s quite the opposite. Madame went to him as a patient in the ordinary way, and he started to put a gold filling into one of her teeth. She was infernally nervous and made him swear beforehand that he wouldn’t hurt her. She brought Konrad Karl with her and he held one of her hands. There was a sort of nurse, a woman whom Scarsby always has on the premises, who held her other hand. I mention this to show you that there were plenty of witnesses present, and it won’t be any use denying the facts. Well, Scarsby went to work in the usual way with one of those infernal drill things which they work with their feet. He had her right back in the chair and was standing more or less in front of her. He says he’s perfectly certain he didn’t hurt her in the least, but I think he must have got down to a nerve or something without knowing it. Anyhow Madame—she couldn’t use her hands you know—gave a sort of twist, got her foot against his chest and kicked him clean across the room.”
“I’d give five pounds to have been there,” said Gorman.
“It must have been a funny sight. Scarsby clutched at everything as he passed. He brought down the drilling machine and a table covered with instruments in his fall. He strained his wrist and now he wants to take an action for a thousand pounds damages against Madame.”
“Silly ass,” said Gorman. “He might just as well take an action against me for a million. Madame hasn’t got a thousand pence in the world.”
“So I thought,” said Dane-Latimer, “and so I told him. As a matter of fact I happen to know that Madame is pretty heavily in debt.”
“Besides,” said Gorman. “He richly deserved what he got. Any man who is fool enough to go monkeying about with Madame Ypsilante’s teeth—you’ve seen her, I suppose.”