"But—but I am his wife," she panted indignantly. "Philip Henley's wife. I—I showed you our certificate."
"A fake, a forgery," asserted the other roughly, before I could find voice. "You had it framed up all right, if you had never run across me. Show me the paper."
"I cannot, for it is not here. I placed it in my valise back at that house." She stepped forward with hands held out toward me. "But you know—Gordon Craig, you know. I could not have forged that; I had not time; no information which would have led to such an act. You tell him so."
"I hardly think he will, Madam," returned the Captain shortly, evidently feeling it better not to let me speak. "And there is no use going on with this any farther. Answer me a question or two, that is all. Did n't Craig tell you why he was coming down here?"
"Yes," the single word scarcely audible.
"He explained to you in detail what was expected of him?"
"Yes."
"Some hours before you left, was n't it?"
"Yes."
"Then you had sufficient time, and knowledge to complete your plans. When did you first tell Craig you were Philip Henley's wife?"