Presently, after he had crossed and recrossed the room several times
with hands behind his back, murmuring to himself in apparent discontent,
but in tones that were undistinguishable, I turned to him saying,--
"As I entered, a visitor left you. Who is he?"
"Cecil Bingham. He is staying with me for a few days."
"A friend?"
"Well--yes," answered his Lordship, halting, and regarding me with no
little surprise. "What do you know of him?"
At first I hesitated, but on reflection resolved to explain the
circumstances in which we had met, and slowly related to him how I had
encountered him with my wife in Kensington Gardens on that
well-remembered wintry afternoon.
The Earl grew grave, and after observing that Bingham had arrived on the
previous day to spend a week, he for some moments stood looking
aimlessly out of the window upon the broad park and the great sheet of
water glistening in the sunlight beyond. Then, muttering something I
could not catch, he walked quickly back to the fireplace, and touched
the electric bell.
"Ask Mr Bingham to see me for a moment," he exclaimed, when the man
answered the summons, and in a few minutes the Earl's guest came in with
that affected jaunty air that had caused me to class him as a cad.
When he had entered, the Earl himself walked to the door and softly
closed it, then, turning, said in a hard, dry voice,--
"This, Cecil, is my secretary, Deedes, the husband of the woman known as
Ella Laing, with whom you have, I understand, been in correspondence,
and have met clandestinely on many occasions."
"What do you mean?" he cried, resentfully, glancing from the Earl to
myself. "I know no one of that name. You are mistaken."
"There is no mistake," answered the great statesman, coldly, at the same
time taking from an old oak bureau a large linen-lined envelope of the
kind used in our Department. From a drawer he took one of his visitor's
letters, while from the envelope he drew forth a second letter. At a
glance I saw that the latter was one of those mysterious missives signed
"X" that had been received by my wife. Opening both, he placed them
together and handed them to me without comment.
They were in the same handwriting.
"Do you deny having written that letter?" asked the Minister, sternly,
at the same time showing him the note. He made a motion to take it, but
suddenly drew away his hand. His lips contracted, his face grew pale,
and with a gesture of feigned contempt he waved the Earl's hand aside.
"Do you deny it?" repeated my chief.
He was still silent--his face a sufficient index to the agitation within
him.
"You have endeavoured to deceive me," continued the Earl, harshly. "You
have some fixed purpose in accepting my invitation, and coming here to
visit me, but you were unaware that already I had knowledge of facts you
have endeavoured so cunningly to conceal. It is useless to deny that
you are acquainted with Deedes's wife, for he recognises you as having
walked with her in Kensington Gardens, while I have ascertained at last
who she really is--that her name was never Ella Laing."
He started at this announcement. His lips moved, but no word escaped
him.
That the Earl should have learned the true name and station of my wife
apparently disconcerted him. His complexion was of ashen hue; all his
arrogance had left him, for he saw himself cornered. I stood glaring at
him fiercely, for was not I face to face with the man whom my wife had
met times without number, concealing from me all motive or duration of
her absences? Some secret had existed between them--he was the man whom
she apparently feared, and whose will she had obeyed. I felt that now,
at last, I should ascertain the truth, and obtain a key to the strange
perplexing enigma that had held me in doubt and suspicion through so
many weary months.
His shifty gaze met mine; I detected a fierce glint in his eyes.
"Well?" exclaimed his Lordship, as determined as myself upon seeking a
solution of the problem. "Now that you admit these mysterious meetings
with Her Highness, perhaps you will explain their object."
"I admit nothing," he answered in anger, knitting his brows. "Neither
have I anything to explain."
"See!" the Earl said, drawing Ella's photograph from the envelope.
"Perhaps you will recognise this picture?" and his bony hand trembled
with suppressed excitement as he placed it before him.
At sight of it my wife's strange friend drew a long breath. He was
white to the lips. Never before had I witnessed such a complete change
in any man in so short a period, and especially curious, it seemed, when
I reflected that he had been charged with no very serious crime.
"You may allege whatever it may please you," he said at last, with
affected sarcasm. "But a woman's honour is safe in my hands."
"My wife's honour!" I cried, with fierce indignation, walking towards
him threateningly. I could no longer stand by in silence when I
recollected what Ella had said about being compelled to act according to
the will of another. She had, no doubt, been under the thrall of this
overdressed dandy. "Now that we have met," I exclaimed, "you shall
explain to me, her husband."
With a quick movement he strode forward as if to escape us, but in an
instant I had gripped him by the shoulder with fierce determination,
whole the Earl himself, apprehending his intention, placed his back
against the door.
"Speak!" I cried wildly, shaking him in my anger. "You shall tell us
the true nature of the secret between you and my wife, and prove your
statement to our satisfaction, or, by heaven, I'll thrash you as a
cunning, cowardly cur!"