“Don’t. Try and discover what you can from her.”
“You don’t seem to like her, Doctor,” I said bluntly.
“No. I don’t like either of them,” the old man admitted. “There’s too much mystery about the pair. I was discussing them with Humphreys this morning, and he agrees.”
“It is not Thelma’s fault,” I said.
“It may be. She evidently knows more about her husband than what she has told you.”
“Well, she’s told me nothing,” I replied.
“There you are! She is concealing the truth. Go and find out all you can. And don’t be indiscreet. Your present position is dangerous. Perhaps he’s left her deliberately and palmed her off upon you, hoping that you will both fall in love, and he can free himself of her at your expense. Such things are not unknown, remember!”
“I don’t believe it,” I declared. “I undertook a trust—foolishly if you like—and it is up to me to carry it out to the best of my ability.”
“Ah! my dear boy, your eyes are closed very often,” the old doctor said. “The lookers-on see most of the game, and I’ve seen one or two little things which show that your temporary bride is not adverse to a little secret flirtation.”
“How?” I asked quickly.