Whoso Findeth a Wife

by William Le Queux

I dared not allow one single syllable of suspicion regarding the German servant, who was, according to Mrs Laing, “a treasure,” to escape my lips, and thus, as the weeks passed preceding my marriage, I was compelled to watch and wait without any outward sign.

The reason of his vigilance was an inscrutable mystery. With Ella as my wife I had passed six blissful weeks, visiting many of the quaint, old-world towns in Central France. It had been Ella’s fancy to do this. She hated the glare and glitter of Paris, and would only remain there the night on our outward and homeward journeys; indeed, cities had no charm for her, she preferred the lethargic provincial towns, from which we could make excursions into the country and spend the bright autumn days at old-fashioned inns. Fearing that she was becoming bored, I endeavoured to induce her to go to Biarritz or Pau, but to no avail. The crowded table-d’hôte, of the popular resort possessed no attraction, and I rejoiced in secret, for we spent a far happier time wandering through the country than if installed in some garish hotel in the neighbourhood of a casino.

Once, and only once since our marriage, had I made any mention of the death of Dudley Ogle. We were driving into the ancient town of Chateauroux, in the Indre, on the lumbering, dusty, old diligence that has performed the same daily journey for perhaps a century, when I chanced to incidentally utter his name, and express wonder when the mystery would be solved.

We were speaking in English, not a word of which could be understood by our driver, but instantly she turned to me with a look of reproach, and, placing her little gloved hand on my mouth in haste, exclaimed,—

“No, Geoffrey. Do not recall that terrible tragedy. Promise never again to mention his name; it only brings sadness to both of us, while the mystery surrounding the crime is irritating and puzzling. You have already told me that he was not your friend, although he posed as such, therefore forget him. I have not forgotten; nor shall I ever cease to think and to strive towards the solution of the problem.”

“But cannot I help you to search and investigate?” I suggested. “Why should you strive to elucidate this mystery alone, now that you are my wife?”

“Because it is my ambition,” she answered, regarding me earnestly with clear, trusting eyes. “You will, I know, allow me to retain one object in life apart from you.”

“Certainly,” I answered, surreptitiously pressing her hand, although puzzled at her strange words. In the few weeks we had been together I had discovered that she was a woman of moods and curious fancies. Once or twice she had exhibited a strong desire to walk alone at night when the moon shone, and because I objected she had pouted prettily, scorning the idea that she was not able to take care of herself. Except when in this mood she was always eager to fulfil my every wish, and I had quickly arrived at the conclusion that her strange desires were but natural to one of a slightly hysterical temperament, and therefore troubled myself but little about them.

Thus after an enjoyable trip through one of the most beautiful districts of France, unknown to the average Briton, we returned and settled comfortably at our new home in Kensington. My duties at the Foreign Office took me away the greater part of the day, but Ella was not lonely, for she drove out frequently with her mother, who visited her almost daily. Of interference or maternal influence I had nothing whatever to complain, yet Ella’s desire to wander about alone, aimless and absorbed, soon again seized her. We had been settled about a month when I made this discovery from the servants, who, on my arrival home earlier than usual on several occasions, told me, in answer to questions, that their mistress had gone out by herself. But on her return she betrayed no surprise, mentioning quite incidentally that she had been shopping in High Street, or that she had been to her milliner’s in Bond Street, or elsewhere.

So frequently did this occur that at last I became puzzled, and on making further inquiries found that on many occasions she had been absent the whole day, returning only just in time to change her dress and receive me with that bright, winning smile that always held me entranced.