“This sub-Potomac chivalry,” commented Vance, “is a frightful nuisance. . . . But aren’t we about due to hold polite converse with the genteel Leander?”
Almost as he spoke the man was announced. He entered the room with his habitual urbanity of manner, but for all his suavity, he could not wholly disguise his uneasiness of mind.
“Sit down, Mr. Pfyfe,” directed Markham brusquely. “It seems you have a little more explaining to do.”
Taking out the manilla envelope, he laid its contents on the desk where the other could see them.
“Will you be so good as to tell me about these?”
“With the greatest pleasure,” said Pfyfe; but his voice had lost its assurance. Some of his poise, too, had deserted him, and as he paused to light a cigarette I detected a slight nervousness in the way he manipulated his gold match-safe.
“I really should have mentioned these before,” he confessed, indicating the papers with a delicately inconsequential wave of the hand.
He leaned forward on one elbow, taking a confidential attitude, and as he talked, the cigarette bobbed up and down between his lips.
“It pains me deeply to go into this matter,” he began; “but since it is in the interests of truth, I shall not complain. . . . My—ah—domestic arrangements are not all that one could desire. My wife’s father has, curiously enough, taken a most unreasonable dislike to me; and it pleases him to deprive me of all but the meagerest financial assistance, although it is really my wife’s money that he refuses to give me. A few months ago I made use of certain funds—ten thousand dollars, to be exact—which, I learned later, had not been intended for me. When my father-in-law discovered my error, it was necessary for me to return the full amount to avoid a misunderstanding between Mrs. Pfyfe and myself—a misunderstanding which might have caused my wife great unhappiness. I regret to say, I used Alvin’s name on a check. But I explained it to him at once, you understand, offering him the note and this little confession as evidence of my good faith. . . . And that is all, Mr. Markham.”
“Was that what your quarrel with him last week was about?”