"My dear little woman," I said in reply, "will nothing convince you that you are playing with fire? If you are not very careful you will burn your fingers. Gertrude is almost as clever as you are. She sees that you are trying to pump her, and very naturally declines to be pumped. You would feel as she does were you in her position."
"I do not know why you should say I am trying to pump her," she answered with considerable dignity. "I consider it a very uncalled-for expression."
"Well, my dear," I answered, "if you are going to attempt to improve your position by splitting straws, then I must stop."
The episode I have just described had taken place after we had retired for the night, and at a time when I am far from being at my best. My wife, on the other hand, as I have repeatedly noticed, is invariably wide-awake at that hour. Moreover she has an established belief that it would be an impossibility for her to obtain any rest until she has cleared up all matters of mystery that may have attracted her attention during the day. I generally fall asleep before she is half-way through, and for this reason I am told that I lack interest in what most nearly concerns our welfare.
"One would at least imagine that you could remain awake to discuss events of so much importance to us and to those about us," I have known her say. "I have observed that you can talk about horses, hunting, and shooting, with your bachelor friends until two or three o'clock in the morning without falling asleep, but when your wife is anxious to ask your opinion about something that does not concern your amusements, then you must needs go to sleep."
"My dear," I replied, "when all is said and done we are but human. You know as well as I do, that if a man were to come to me when I had settled down for the night, and were to tell me that he knew where to lay his hand upon the finest horse in England, and where he could put me on to ten coveys of partridges within a couple of hundred yards of my own front door, that he could even tell me the winner of the Derby, I should answer him as I am now answering you."
"And your reply would be?"
I am afraid the pains I had been at to illustrate my own argument must have proved too much for me, for I was informed in the morning that I had talked a vast amount of nonsense about seeing Nikola concerning a new pigeon-trap, and had then resigned myself to the arms of Morpheus. If there should be any husbands whose experience have run on similar lines, I should be glad to hear from them. But to return to my story.
One evening, exactly a week after Glenbarth's arrival in Venice, I was dressing for dinner when a letter was brought to me. Much to my surprise I found it was from Nikola, and in it he inquired whether it would be possible for me to spare the time to come and see him that evening. It appeared that he was anxious to discuss a certain important matter with me. I noticed, however, that he did not mention what that matter was. In a postscript he asked me, as a favour to himself, to come alone.
Having read the letter I stood for a few moments with it in my hand, wondering what I should do. I was not altogether anxious to go out that evening; on the other hand I had a strange craving to see Nikola once more. The suggestion that he desired to consult me upon a matter of importance flattered my vanity, particularly as it was of such a nature that he did not desire the presence of a third person. "Yes," I thought, "after all I will go." Accordingly I wrote a note to him saying that, if the hour would suit him, I hoped to be with him at half-past nine o'clock. Then I continued my dressing and presently went down to dinner.