Studies in Wives

by Marie Belloc Lowndes

"If that be indeed so," said the man whom he addressed, and who, for the first time, was beginning to feel himself shaken in his belief, nay, in his absolute knowledge, that the young man was perjuring himself, "can you, and will you, explain these letters?" and he drew out of his pocket a folded sheet of foolscap.

Carden bent forward eagerly; there was no doubt, so the Head Constable admitted to himself, as to his eagerness to be brought face to face with the accusation—and yet, at that moment, a strong misgiving came over Major Lane.

Even if Theodore Carden could continue to be the consummate actor he had already proved himself, was it right, was it humane, to subject him to this terrible test, and that, too, before his old father? Whatever the young man's past relation to Mrs. Jarvice, nay, whatever his connection might be with the crime which Major Lane now knew to have been committed, Carden was certainly ignorant of the existence of these terrible, these damnatory documents, and they constituted so far the only proof that Carden had been lying when he denied any knowledge of Mrs. Jarvice. But then, alas! they constituted an irrefutable proof.

With a sudden movement Major Lane withdrew his right hand, that which held the piece of paper.

"Stop a moment, Theodore; do you really wish this discussion to take place before your father? I wonder if you remember"—he paused, and then went on firmly, "an interview you and I had many years ago?"

For the first time the younger man's whole manner changed; a look of fear, of guilt, came over his strong, intelligent face.

"Father," he said imploringly, "I beg you not to listen to Major Lane. He is alluding to a matter which he gave me his word—his word of honour—should never be mentioned to anyone, least of all to you;" then, turning with an angry gesture to the Head Constable, "Was that not so?" he asked imperiously.

"Yes, I admit that by asking you this question I have broken my word, but good God! man, this is no passing scrape that we have to consider now; to-morrow morning all Birmingham will be ringing with your name—with your father's name, Theodore—for by some horrible mischance the papers have got hold of the letters in question. I did my best, but I found I was powerless."

He turned and deliberately looked away, as he added in a low, hesitating voice: "And now, once more I ask you whether we had not better delay this painful discussion until you and I are alone?"

"No!" cried Carden, now thoroughly roused, "certainly not! You have chosen to come and tell my father something about me, and I insist that you tell me here, and at once, what it is of which I am accused."