"Tell me, Jack, about your friend Molly. Is she reconciled to her rank and title yet? I believe that she does not live with her husband."
"She denies that she was married."
"Ah! I have heard, in fact, that there is some sort of a story—a cock and a bull story—about the wedding."
"Another woman was substituted. Molly was at home."
"Another woman? Strange! Why was she substituted? Who was she?"
"I know not. The matter is a mystery. Certain it is, however, that Lord Fylingdale was married. I myself saw the wedding. I was in the church."
"You were in the church?" She raised her fan for a moment. "You were in the church? And you saw the wedding. Who was the bride?"
"I do not know. At the time I thought it was Molly."
"Jack," she leaned over, looking me full in the face. "Have you no suspicion?"
"None. I cannot understand how, all in a moment, and when he found that Molly was not there, the bridegroom found means to substitute another woman dressed as Molly should have been. I cannot understand it."