“That is the story he told you, but it is now proved to be incorrect. The firm have no knowledge of him.”
“There must be some mistake,” she said, much puzzled.
“Did you introduce him to your mother?”
“Yes, he came home to Bexhill once and stayed the week-end at the Sackville. Mother liked him awfully, but at the same time she thought I was too young to marry.”
“Then during the time of your engagement he was mostly away—eh? Did you ever meet any of his relatives?”
“No,” she replied—rather hesitatingly. I thought then she endeavored to change the topic of our conversation.
I, however, pursued it. A suspicion forced itself on my mind that she really knew a good deal more than she would tell me. But though I persisted for some time she would tell me nothing more and naturally I began to be annoyed. I did not wish to think hardly of her, but it was impossible to stifle entirely the suspicions that insisted on forcing themselves upon my mind. Had I been caught in some carefully prepared trap or had I merely made a colossal fool of myself?
Ten minutes later, my companion, bursting into tears she could no longer control, blurted out—
“I’ve been foolish, Mr. Yelverton—so very foolish! The fact is I—I’ve married a man—a man—I did not know!”
“Did not know,” I gasped in turn. “Is that really the truth?”