The Wiles of the Wicked Part 27

"Then I shall be most interested to see this extraordinary fiction proved," I said. "Perhaps we shall then get down to facts."

"The facts are as already stated," Gedge remarked.

"Then let me see proof. There must be a certificate or official entry somewhere if what this lady says is really correct. Where is it?"

"My certificate was stolen when my jewel-case was rifled in the train between Waterloo and Exeter," she answered. "But, of course, a copy can easily be obtained. Your solicitor in London can get a copy at once from Somerset House."

"Certificate stolen!" I cried. "A most ingenious excuse. I quite antic.i.p.ated it, although it, unfortunately, exhibits no originality.

Thieves don't usually steal marriage certificates. They can't p.a.w.n them, you know."

The woman before me glanced around the room with an air of bewilderment, and I then knew that I had cornered her.

"And where did this extraordinary marriage between us take place, pray?"

I inquired, not without some bitter irony.

"At St Andrew's, Wells Street."

"Wells Street, in London?"

"Yes. You surely remember it, don't you? The church is close by Oxford Circus."

"I know the church quite well," I answered. "But I most firmly and distinctly deny ever having been inside it in my life."

"If you examine the marriage register there you'll find your signature, together with that of your wife," Gedge observed, with a confidence that rather surprised me.

"I shall certainly take no trouble in such a matter," I declared. "It is alleged that I am the husband of this lady, therefore it is for her to bring proof--not for me to seek it."

"Very well, then," cried the woman who called herself Mrs Heaton.

"Within three days a copy of the certificate shall be placed in your hands."

"I'm not very partial to copies of doc.u.ments," I observed very dubiously. "I always prefer originals."

"The original is, unfortunately, lost."

"Stolen, or strayed away of its own accord--eh?" I added with a doubtful laugh.

"Are you content to wait until the certificate can be obtained from Somerset House?" she inquired.

"No," I responded. "If you are actually my wife as you allege, madam, perhaps you will kindly explain the mystery of my presence here, in a house that until an hour ago I had never seen in all my life."

The woman and the secretary again exchanged glances. I saw they considered me an utterly irresponsible agent. They believed me to be demented.

"None of us can explain it," Gedge answered. "There is some mystery, but what it is we can't yet fathom."

"Mystery!" I echoed. "I should think there was some mystery--and devilishly complicated it must be too, when I find myself in this amazing position. Why, it's sufficient to turn the brain of any man to be told of one's marriage to a--to a woman one has never set eyes upon before, and--well, old enough to be his own mother!"

"Hush, hus.h.!.+" said the secretary, who apparently wished to avoid a scene. He evidently knew that this angular woman, notwithstanding her affected juvenility, possessed a fiendish temper. I had detected it by the keen look in her eyes and the twitchings of her thin, hard lips.

"If I'm in my own house," I cried wrathfully, "I am surely permitted to say what I like. Am I master here, or not?"

"Certainly you are, sir," he responded, instantly humbled.

"Then listen," I said. "Until the arrival of the certificate from London I have no wish to meet this lady who alleges that she is my wife."

Then, turning to her, I made her a mock bow, adding, ironically--

"I think, madam, that it will avoid any further words of a disagreeable nature if we remain apart for the present."

"Certainly, Wilford," she cried, putting her hands out to me with an imploring gesture. "Go and rest, there's a dear, and carry out Doctor Britten's orders. You will soon be right again if you do. You've been puzzling your head too much over your figures, and the blow has affected you. Go and rest. But before you go I would ask you one favour."

"Well?" I inquired in a hard voice.

She drew nearer to me, and with that detestable artificial coquetry lifted her face to mine that I might kiss her.

"No!" I cried roughly, for I was beside myself with anger. "Let me remain in peace. I don't want to meet you again, my dear madam, until-- until I know the worst."

"What have I done, Wilford, that you should treat me thus?" she wailed bitterly, bursting into a torrent of tears. "Oh, what have I done?

Tell me."

"I don't know what you've done, and I'm sure I'm not interested in it,"

I responded. "All I know is that when you declare that you are my wife you tell a deliberate and downright lie."

For a moment she stood in hesitation, then, with tears flowing fast, she covered her face with her hands and staggered from the room.

Was she only acting the broken-hearted wife, or was that emotion real?

Which, I could not decide.

If all this were part of some conspiracy, it was certainly one of no ordinary character. But what a confounded old hag the woman was! I shuddered. Surely she could not be my wife! The suggestion was too utterly preposterous to be entertained for a single moment, and within myself I laughed her allegation to scorn.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

HOW MANY YESTERDAYS?

"Now," I said, turning to Gedge, "perhaps you will show me over this new domain of mine. They seem to be pretty comfortable quarters, at any rate."

He looked at me strangely.

"You surely don't mean, sir, that you wish me to show you over your own house?" he said with incredulity.

"Of course I do," I answered. "I've never been over it yet, and I think I may as well embrace the opportunity now."

"But hadn't you better go to your room and rest? It will surely do you good. I'll ring for Rayner, the valet." He spoke as though solicitous of my welfare.

"I want no valets, neither do I require rest," I answered impatiently.

"I mean to fathom this mystery."

"But pardon me," he said deferentially, "there is no mystery, as far as I can see. You accidentally struck your head against the statue while pa.s.sing through the drawing-room, and were rendered unconscious. The blow has, according to the doctor, impaired your mental capacity a little. In a few days you'll be all right again. Poor Mrs Heaton!-- she's awfully upset."

"I will not have her called Mrs Heaton!" I cried in indignation.