She came a step forward. Raising the lighted candle, she almost thrust it in my face. She stared at me with strained and eager eyes. She seemed to see something in my face: though what there was to see, except bewilderment, was more than I could guess.
"I don't believe you. You are deceiving me. Did you quarrel with him? Who are you? Tell me! I have a right to know--I am his wife!"
"His wife!" Complications seemed to be increasing. "I thought your name was Barnes."
"So is his name Barnes. What has happened? What do you know about him? Tell me."
"What do I know about him? I know nothing. So far as I am aware, I never saw the man in my life before."
"I don't believe you--you are lying! Where has he gone, and why? You shall tell me--I'll make you!"
She forced her way into the room; in doing so she forced me back. When she was in, she shut the door and stood with her back to it. Her voice had risen to a scream. Her manner almost threatened personal violence. I felt that the hotel to which I had been introduced was conducted on lines with which I had not been hitherto familiar.
"If, as you say, and as I have no reason to doubt, this person is your husband, and he has really disappeared, I can understand that your excitement is not unjustified; but you are mistaken if you suppose that I am in any way to blame. I will tell you exactly what happened between us." I turned aside so that I might have some sort of chance of making up my mind as to how much, on the spur of the moment, it might be advisable to tell her. "Your husband waited on me at dinner. During dinner we scarcely exchanged half a dozen words. After dinner I said something which, although it was spoken out loud, was said to myself, but which affected him in the most extraordinary and unexpected manner."
"What did you say?"
"I said 'I want you.'"