“Now the only pitfall about this letter of Dan’s is that it is so very complete. He makes things so remarkably easy for us. He leaves us nothing to prove. He admits everything in advance and covers the whole of our case in our favour. That letter might have been dictated by a lawyer in our interest.”
Margaret looked deeply disappointed. “You don’t mean to say that we shan’t be able to act on it!” she exclaimed in dismay.
“I don’t say that,” he replied, “and I certainly think it will be worth trying. But I do wish that we could produce evidence that he is living with some woman, as he appears to state. That would be so much more convincing. However, I will get an opinion from a counsel who has had extensive experience of divorce practice; a man like Barnby, for instance. I could show him a copy of the letter and hear what he thinks.”
“Why not Dr. Thorndyke?” said Margaret. “He was really right, after all, and we shall have to show him the letter.”
“Yes; and he must see the original. But as to taking his opinion, well we shall have to do that as a matter of courtesy; but I don’t set much value on his judgment. You see, he chose to go double Nap on this letter and he happened to win. Events prove that he was right to take the chance, but it was primitive strategy. It doesn’t impress me.”
Margaret made no immediate rejoinder. She was not a lawyer, and to her the fact that the plan had succeeded was evidence that it was a good plan. Accordingly, her waning faith in Thorndyke was strongly revived.
“I can’t help hoping,” she said, presently, “that this letter will secure a decision in our favour. It really ought to. You see, there is no question of arrangement or collusion on my side. Our relations were perfectly normal and pleasant up to the moment of Dan’s disappearance. There were no quarrels, no differences, nothing to hint at any desire for a change in our relations; and I have waited six months for him to come back, and have taken no action until he made it clear that he had gone for good. Don’t you think that I have a fair chance of getting my freedom?”
“Perhaps you are right, Maggie,” he replied. “I may be looking out for snags that aren’t there. Of course, you could call me and Phillip and Varney to prove that all was normal up to the last, and Penfield and Thorndyke to give evidence of your efforts to trace Dan. Yes; perhaps it is a better case than I thought. But all the same, I will show the letter to Barnby when Thorndyke has seen it and get his opinion without prejudice.”
He paused and reflected profoundly for a while. Suddenly he looked up at Margaret; and in his eyes there was a new light.
“Supposing, Maggie,” he said in a low, earnest voice, “you were to get this marriage dissolved. Then you would be free—free to marry. You know that, years ago, when you were free, I loved you. You know that, because I told you; and I thought, and I still think that you cared for me then. The fates were against us at that time, but in the years that have passed, there has been no change in me. You are the only woman I have ever wanted. Of course I have kept my feelings to myself. That had to be. But if we can win back your freedom, I shall ask you to be my wife, unless you forbid me. What shall you say to me, Maggie?”