‘You were an attendant in the Cosmos Club about the date of my marriage?’ said the master.
‘I was, sir, then, and for six months before, and a good while after.’
‘You recollect what was said about the marriage a few evenings after it took place?’
‘Perfectly, sir, because you told me to write it down, as you thought some day it might be useful to you.’
‘The day has come. Tell us what you heard.’
‘There was a small dinner-party in the strangers’ room, and I had charge of it. The gentlemen were particularly merry, and in fact there was a remarkable quantity of wine used. Your marriage, sir, was mentioned; and Mr Laurence, who was the gayest of the company, although he took less wine than any other gentleman, proposed the health of the happy couple. I recollect his very words, sir. He says: “I was in the swim for the girl myself; but this beggar, Hadleigh, cut me out; that was luck for me, so here’s luck to them;” and the toast was drunk with perfect enthusiasm. Mr Laurence made away with himself some time after; and I heard the gentlemen whisper among themselves, when referring to the sad event, that it was a question of doing that or of doing a spell of penal servitude. That’s all, sir.’
The master nodded: Mr Terry bowed and retired with the portly gravity with which he had entered.
Mr Hadleigh turned to Madge. The butler’s story produced the effect desired: she was convinced, for she felt sure that no man who loved could speak so lightly—or speak at all—of the woman he loved in a company of club bacchanalians.
‘But why did you not tell this to Mr Shield?’ was her reproachful exclamation.
‘Because he would not listen to anything I had to say. From the time of the marriage until after the death of Laurence, we never met. Then he came to me, mad with passion, and poured out a volley of abuse. I was patient because he was her brother; and silent because it was as hopeless to expect a man drunk with rage to be reasonable as one drunk with alcohol. In his last words to me he accused me of murder. We have never spoken together since.—Do you think me guilty?’