Desmond, who still hesitated, looked at him in a curious deprecatory fashion.
"Well," he said, "the fact is Miss Ratcliffe was married the day before I left Las Palmas."
In another moment Ormsgill was on his feet, and his laugh jarred on Desmond's ears.
"Married!" he said hoarsely, clenching one hand tight. "And I've thrown away everything to keep faith with her."
Desmond made a little restraining gesture. "Well," he said, "it's not my business, but I think I understand what you are referring to—and, perhaps, it's scarcely wise to be too sure. With all deference to Mrs. Ratcliffe I can't help fancying you are well out of the other matter. After all, to mention no other reason, it would require a certain amount of courage to recognize that lady as one's mother-in-law."
Ormsgill, who made no answer, turned towards the door, and spoke a few words to the sentry. The latter called to one of his comrades, and Ormsgill, after giving the man a message came back again and sat down quietly.
"I have asked if I may have the letter," he said.
It was brought him ten minutes later unopened, and he sat very still for awhile after he had read it. Then there was bitterness in his laugh.
"It is in one sense a masterly production," he said. "In fact, both of them are. I am assured that Mrs. Ratcliffe recognized all along that we were never made for one another." He turned, and grasped his companion's shoulder. "Can you tell me anything about this paragon who, it seems, has married Ada?"
A little twinkle crept into Desmond's eyes. "I never heard him called anything of that kind before. Lister, you see, is an unlicked colt, and nobody could have said very much to his credit until lately. Still, he seems to be making an effort to rub out certain defects in his character, and if Miss Ratcliffe can only keep it up they may get along tolerably well together."