“Madam,” I cried very determinedly, “you will oblige me by not adding further insult to your attempted imposture—for such sympathy is insulting to me.”
She clasped her hands, turned her eyes upwards, and sighed in the manner of the elderly.
“You believe that I’m mad. Therefore you are trying to impose upon me!” I went on furiously. “But I tell you, my dear madam, that I am just as sane as yourself, and am fully prepared to prove that I am not your husband.”
“Ask Mr Gedge whether I speak the truth or not,” she said, turning to the secretary.
“Certainly,” answered the man addressed, looking straight into my face. “I have no hesitation whatever in bearing out Mrs Heaton’s statement.”
“It’s all humbug!” I cried, turning savagely upon him. “I don’t know this woman from Adam!”
“Well,” he laughed cynically, “you ought to know her pretty well, at any rate.”
It was apparent from his tone that he had no very high opinion of her.
“I’m pleased to say that until this present moment we have been strangers,” I said, for I was not in a humour to mince words.
“You are extremely complimentary, Wilford,” she observed resentfully.