“And how does he like his private papers being peered into, I wonder?”
“Well, at least I now know the truth. You killed Mr. Harborne, and, further, it was you who tampered with Lieutenant Barclay’s aeroplane. You can’t deny it!”
“Why should I deny it? Harborne was your lover. You met him in secret at Mundesley on the previous afternoon. Therefore I killed two birds with one stone. A very alert secret agent was suppressed, and at the same time I was rid of a rival.”
“He was not my lover!” she protested, her cheeks scarlet. “I loved you, and only you.”
“Then why don’t you love me now? Why not return and be a dutiful wife to me?”
“Return!” she gasped. “Never!”
“But I shall compel you. You married this man, Bracondale, under false pretences, and he has no right to you. I am your husband.”
“That I cannot deny,” she said, her hands twitching nervously. “But I read of your death in the papers, and believed it to be true,” she added in despair.
“Well, you seem to have done extremely well for yourself. And you have been living in London all the time?”