The Wiles of the Wicked Part 28

"Understand that! I have no wife--and a hag like that I certainly would never marry." He raised his eyebrows with a gesture of regret, sighed, but hazarded no remark.

"Come," I said, "show me over the place. It will be a most interesting visit, I'm sure." And I laughed, reflecting upon my extraordinary position, one absolutely unparalleled in man's history.

"But before doing so will you not sign one or two cheques?" he urged, glancing at his watch. "The postman will call for the letters in half an hour, and they must be dispatched to-day."

"What cheques?"

"There are six," he answered, taking out a large cheque-book and opening it. "I've already made them out, if you will kindly sign them."

I glanced at them. All six were for large amounts, each considerably over a thousand pounds.

"They relate to business transactions, all of which are exceedingly good bargains," he explained.

"Well," I said, laughing again. "I've never before signed cheques for such big amounts as these. But here goes, if you wish. Whether they'll be honoured is quite another thing."

And I took up a pen and appended my signature to each, while he placed one by one in envelopes ready directed to receive them.

"Now," he said at last, "if you really wish me to take you round I'll do so, but the whole thing seems so droll and absurd that I hope, sir, you'll excuse my doubts as to your sanity."

"Well, why do you think I'm insane?" I asked, looking straight at him.

"Do I look like a madman?"

"Not at all. With your head swathed in those bandages, you look like a man who's received a serious injury."

"Of course, that confounded old charlatan Britten put forward the suggestion that I'm not in my right mind!" I said. "But I tell you quite calmly, and without fear of contradiction--indeed, I could swear upon oath--that never in my life have I entered this place or set eyes upon you or upon that painted old girl before to-day. Now, if you were in my place, surely you would resent, being called husband by a woman whom you don't know from Adam; you wouldn't relish being condemned as a lunatic by an idiotic old country quack, and being imposed upon all round by persons in whom you have not the slightest interest."

His face relaxed into a smile.

"If I may be permitted to advise," he said, "I think it best not to discuss the matter further at present. A solution must present itself before long. Meanwhile your intellect will be rendered the clearer by repose."

"I've already told you that I don't intend to rest until I've extricated myself from this absurdly false position," I said determinedly. "I feel absolutely certain that I've been mistaken for some one of the same name."

He shrugged his shoulders. He was evidently a shrewd fellow, this man who said he was my secretary, and was apparently a very confidential servant.

"I'd like to know what to reply to Mawson's cable," he said. "You really ought to take some notice of such a marvellous stroke of good fortune. His discovery means fabulous wealth for you as holder of the concession."

"My dear sir," I said, "for mercy's sake don't bother me about this fellow and his confounded pans. Reply just as you like. You seem to know all about it. I don't--nor do I want to know."

"But in a case like this I do not care to act on my own discretion alone," he protested. "They are evidently awaiting a reply in Dawson City."

"Let them wait," I said. "I don't want to bother my head over matters in which I can have no possible concern. This alleged matrimonial alliance of mine is of far more importance to me than all the gold in the Klond.y.k.e."

"Well, the lady is your wife, so why worry further about it?" he said.

"And how do you know, pray?"

"Because I was present at the ceremony."

I looked at him for a moment, unable to utter further words.

"I suppose you'll tell me next that you were my secretary in my bachelor days?" I said at last.

"Certainly I was."

"And you say that you were actually present at the church, and saw me married?" I cried, absolutely incredulous.

"I was. You were married at St Andrew's, Wells Street. It was a smart wedding, too, for Mrs Fordyce was very well known in society, and had a large circle of friends."

"Fordyce?" I echoed, puzzled.

"Yes, that was Mrs Heaton's name before her marriage with you."

"Then she was a widow?" I gasped.

He nodded in the affirmative.

I groaned. The affair grew more puzzling now that he declared himself an actual witness of my matrimonial misfortune.

But how could such a thing have taken place without my knowledge? It was impossible. The mystery, like the strange incidents which had preceded this remarkable situation in which I found myself, grew more and more inexplicable each hour.

We went forth, together, pa.s.sing from room to room through the great country mansion. The place was handsome, of rather modern type, furnished glaringly in the manner which bespoke the parvenu. It possessed no mellow, time-worn appearance, as did the dear old Manor House beside the Severn. The furniture and hangings were too apparently of the Tottenham Court Road type, and the art displayed was that of the art furnisher given _carte blanche_ to furnish with the newest and most fas.h.i.+onable fancies in the matter of wallpapers, dadoes, cornices, and art-pottery. There were art-carpets and art-curtains, art-cupboards and art-chairs, art-china and art-chintzes. Art was everywhere in painful enamel and impossible greens. There were pictures, too, but different, indeed, to the long row of n.o.ble faces with their ruffles and doublets and their arms painted on s.h.i.+elds in the corners that looked down so solemnly in the great hall at Heaton. The pictures in that modern mansion were of the _queue-de-siecle_ French school, daubs by the miscalled impressionists, some being rather too _chic_ to be decent.

That a large amount of money had been expended upon the place I could not doubt, but the effect was that of dazzling the gaze by colour, and nowhere seemed there a good, comfortable old-fas.h.i.+oned sitting-room.

All the apartments were arranged to please the eye, and not for personal comfort. The house was just the kind that a man suddenly successful in the city might set up in the vain endeavour to develop into a country gentleman; for to become such is the ideal of every silk-hatted business man, whether he trades in stocks or stockings.

"That I should be compelled to show you over your own house is, to say the least, very amusing," said Gedge, as we were pa.s.sing up the grand staircase. "If people were told of this they wouldn't believe it possible."

"I myself don't believe what you tell me is possible," I remarked. "But who gave orders for this furniture?"

"You did."

"And who chose it--approved of the designs, and all that sort of thing?"

"You certainly did," he answered. "Some of the ideas were, of course, Mrs Heaton's."

"I thought so. I don't believe myself capable of such barbaric taste as those awful blues and greens in the little sitting-room."

"The morning-room you mean."

"I suppose so. The whole place is like a furniture show-room--this style complete, thirty-five guineas, and so on. You know the sort of thing I mean."

He smiled in amus.e.m.e.nt at my words.

"Your friends all admire the place," he remarked.

"What friends?"

"Sir Charles Stimmel, Mr Larcombe, Lady Fraser, and people of that cla.s.s."