“No, and I don’t want to.”
“But perhaps that is exactly what she does want. Remember that she has been married before, with somewhat bitter experience. She probably believes that a husband and wife should have no secrets from each other. Above all else, there should be no cloud between them as to bygone events. Mrs. Hillmer is highly sensitive. If she imagined you were under any misapprehension as to the circumstances under which Sir Charles and Lady Dyke met their deaths—do not forget that you were personally mixed up in the affair—she would neither entertain your proposal nor explain her motives. She would just do as you say—run away and cry.”
“Well, now, that beats everything,” said Corbett admiringly. “That never struck me before.”
“It is the probable explanation of her attitude, nevertheless.”
“Then what am I to do?”
“Write to her. Ask her permission to learn the facts from me. Tell her you believe you understand the reasons for her reticence, and that your only excuse for the request is that you want to go to her on an equal plane of absolute confidence. It seems to me—”
“That I’d better get quick and do it,” shouted Corbett, vanishing with the utmost celerity.
Bruce still occupied his old chambers in Victoria Street. He did not expect to see Corbett again for a couple of days. To the barrister’s utter amazement he returned within ten minutes.
“Fire away!” he cried excitedly. “You struck it first time. I just rang her up—”
“Rang her up?”