"You will remember that earlier in my narrative I said I disputed the
paternity of this child at the time of its birth. Well, before
letting the matter go into court I obtained more than one opinion from
eminent counsel. But every opinion was substantially in accord--to
the effect that the question of time rendered the matter such a very
near thing that I could not hope to contest the claim with the
slightest chance of success. How does this affect you now, Philip
Orlebar? Why, exactly as it affected me then. Your chances of
obtaining a decree of nullity are so remote as to be practically
non-existent--even if you care to throw the case open to the public--
for remember, by the time you get this you will have been married two
whole days, and a court of law is a pretty scathing ordeal. Nor will
the plea of fraud avail you, while I know for a fact that Laura was
totally unaware of the circumstances of her parentage, or that the
name under which she was married--her surname, to wit, was rightly any
other than Daventer.
"Well, you must accept the situation in all its bearings, and if you
cannot--as I firmly believe--break the tie by which you are legally,
but only legally, bound, you can console yourself, as I did, with the
reflection that it is now out of your power ever again to make a fool
of yourself. Nothing further remains to be said, except that I
suppose never before did the strands of Fate weave together so
complete a web of what is commonly called poetic justice, so unique an
instance of retribution. And remember this. If your father ate sour
grapes and your teeth are set on edge, you must blame him--not me.
"Should you wish to meet me to talk over anything, I am still to be
found at my old quarters. Of course, I am using the name by which you
have always known me.
"Richard Fordham."