“He altered his will at the eleventh hour--the day before I was sentenced--and left me nothing. Poor old dear! I haven’t the slightest grudge. How could I? He was the best father that ever lived.” She had said she rarely smoked; she took a cigarette from her bag now and lit it without looking at him. Indeed, for the next four minutes, as he talked about his envelope addressing and his future, it seemed that she was more interested in the blue vapour that floated from the end of her cigarette than in his narrative. “You’re unfortunate.” She put down the cigarette, carefully took out a spoonful of coffee from the cup and dropped it on the glowing end as it lay in the saucer. “You’re unfortunate, Peter Dawlish, both as a son--and as a husband!” He did not speak. “Terribly unfortunate,” she went on moodily. “I think you must have been born under a very unlucky star. I’m not asking you for confidences; you’d hate me if I did.” Presently: “How did you know?” She fetched a long sigh. “How did I know? Oh, I only knew yesterday for sure. I’d guessed for a long time--ever since I went on my holidays into Cumberland and found a little volume of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s with an inscription in doggerel blank verse on the fly leaf. It was when I saw that the first letter of every line reading from below, upward, made the words “Jane Hood” that I first guessed. But I wasn’t certain--about the marriage. There was no record at Somerset House.” “We were married in America.” She nodded. “I know that now; but why?” He stared past her out of the window. Here, she thought, was a man who really regarded life as a terribly serious business. She was mighty glad of that. “Jane was very unhappy at home; her people were rotten. Her father kept a gambling house, and her mother----” He shrugged. “I fell in love with her. If I hadn’t been a fool I would have gone to my father and told him the truth and then, in all probability, there would have been no cause for unhappiness. But I was aware that he knew Jane’s people and knew that they were rotten. We went away to America together and were married in a little town in Connecticut. I suppose you know that? Her father was American born. From the first day the marriage was a ghastly mistake. Jane thought I had unlimited money. I had to pawn her jewels to get home, and there was a fearful scene when we landed at Liverpool. We were both a little crazy, and agreed then and there to separate. I went back to Lord Everreed’s house to find detectives awaiting me at the railway station. I haven’t seen or spoken with Jane since.” “Has she divorced you?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Things like that are possible in America, but I’ve had no notification.” Leslie bit her lip. “If she hasn’t, she’s committed bigamy. You realize that?” “I realize that,” he said shortly. “Which means that I cannot free myself without betraying her; I can’t do that. I couldn’t expose her to imprisonment.”