Part 35 (1/2)

'Well, we'll hope so. Indeed, without self-conceit, I think I may safely say that I believe he was.'

There was something in his tone which struck me.

'I don't know what you mean, sir, but I see you do mean something. I hope it's something to your credit.'

He moved, leaning his elbow on the mantelpiece, so that his face was half-turned away from me. He was so tall that he had to stoop to get his elbow in its place, though the shelf is pretty high.

'So the real name of the man I knew as Montagu Babbacombe is Merrett.'

'Yes, sir; James Merrett.'

'James Merrett. That is his real name?'

'So far as I know.'

'At any rate it is the name under which you married him.'

'It is.'

'Where were you married, Mrs. Merrett?'

'What has that to do with you, sir?'

He smiled, though not what I should call merrily.

'True. What has it? I was only thinking that, if he had one pseudonym he may quite possibly have had another, and that his name might not be Merrett after all: in which case, as his wife, you might find yourself in a peculiar position.'

'I don't see how. I married him in good faith, and whether his name is Brown or Robinson, I'm his wife.'

'I should advise you not to be too certain. The law has its own way of looking at such matters.'

'I'm not afraid of the law. When I require its protection, Mr.

Howarth, I shall have it. Why have you come to put such thoughts into my head?'

'I was thinking of you last night after you had gone, and I could not but feel interested in your case, both on account of your youth and your beauty.'

My fingers began to tingle that he should talk to me like that.

'If that's all you have to say, Mr. Howarth, you must excuse my saying that I was just making a pudding when you came.'

'And an excellent pudding, too, I am sure. By the way, Mrs. Merrett, have you any children?'

'I have two.'

Just then there came screams of laughter from the other side of the wall. He held up his hands.

'Ah? There they are! I thought I heard childish voices. Both girls?'

'A boy and a girl.'

What he was driving at I could not think. Somehow I felt pretty sure that the idea of my having children was one he didn't like at all; though what it had to do with him was beyond me altogether, and like his impudence. The queer thing was that, in spite of the fuss she made of them, I'd had the same feeling about Miss Desmond. I was beginning to wonder what connection there was between them; and how it came about that they were both in my house at the same time. That they were there to find out something, I could see; I could also see that they already knew more about me than I did about them. The interest which this fine lady and gentleman took in my belongings was clean out of the common. It was a good deal more than mere curiosity. And as for supposing that it was just sympathy with a stranger, I wasn't so simple as to do that. That Mr. FitzHoward was right, and that Mr.