“Am I to presume, madam, that I see before me the widow of my late son, John Alexander Clare?”
“That was my husband’s full name, Sir Gilbert—the name he was married in—although, for reasons of his own, he chose to be known to the world simply as Mr. John Alexander.”
“To be sure—to be sure.” The rich full contralto of her voice sounded pleasantly in his ears. “That was a fact well-known to me at the time. But pray be seated.” A wave of his hand included Verinder in the invitation.
He had dropped Giovanna’s hand, and there had been a sudden change in his tone as he spoke the last words. The fact was that he had caught the Captain smiling and rubbing one hand within the other with an air of supreme satisfaction, although the other had certainly not intended that he should do anything of the kind, and therewith he had chilled under a sudden breath of suspicion. “What, after all, if I am being victimised by a couple of schemers!” he said to himself. “And yet that any woman with such a face as that should lend herself—— No, no—I cannot believe it.”
Both the others could see that some change had come over him, but were at a loss to guess the cause of it.
“And where was it, madam, if I may be allowed to ask, that you first made the acquaintance of my son?”
“At Catanzaro, Sir Gilbert.”
“So—so. Alec’s long stay in that, to me, detestable hole of a place is now explained.” This was said half to himself. “And where, madam, were you and my son united in the bonds of matrimony?”
“We were married at Malta, at the English church there.”
“Ah, then you are a Protestant!”