“Will you be long, dear?”
It was the beautiful Mrs. De Gex! In an instant I recognized her by the many photographs I had seen in the picture papers.
“No. I’ll be with you in a minute, dear. Is the car there?” he asked.
“It’s been there a quarter of an hour, and if we don’t go now we shall be late in meeting Hylda at the station,” she said, glancing at me with undisguised annoyance.
Then she left, closing the door after her.
Across my brain ran strange thoughts. I recollected his words in Stretton Street regarding his spiteful wife when I had been called in to listen to his matrimonial troubles. But husband and wife now appeared to be on quite amicable and even affectionate terms.
I confess that I was still bewildered, as you, my reader, in whom I am here reposing confidence, would, I believe, have been, had you found yourself in similar circumstances.
“I see that your wife is eager to go out,” I said. “But I fear I must, before I go, press for a direct answer to my questions, Mr. De Gex.”
“My dear sir, I have answered them. What more can I say?” he exclaimed with affected dismay.
“A very great deal. You can tell me the truth.”