“Oh, I’ve told Roger and Maggie, and I suppose Roger has told Scilla. She hasn’t said anything.”

“And what did Roger and Maggie say?”

She lifted his hand and laid it against her cheek.

“Oh, Maggie cried and said marriage was very uncertain, and she had often felt thankful that she had escaped it.”

“Poor old Maggie.”

“Darling, she was rather pathetic. She said how unhappy my father and mother had been, and she talked about Roger and Scilla.”

“And what did Roger talk about?”

“He hardly said anything at all. I told him I shouldn’t be marrying Gilbert, and he didn’t even ask why. He stood with his back to me and looked out of the window, and all he said was, ‘Well, I suppose you know your own business.’ So I said yes, I did, and that was just about all.”

Jason did not speak. After a moment she went on.

“I had one of those horrible letters on Thursday morning. I can’t help wondering whether Roger had one too.”

“Tommy did.”

“Tommy!”

“Yes, I saw it.”

“Jason-”

“Look here, this is just between you and me.”

“Of course. What did it say?”

“Accused Gilbert of intending to commit bigamy, and asked Tommy if he was prepared to aid and abet. Put him in quite a spot. On the one hand you don’t take any notice of anonymous letters, and on the other you can’t take a chance about letting a girl in for a bigamous marriage. Tommy ought to be blessing us for getting him out of the mess.”

She was leaning against him. Gilbert was gone, and everything felt very safe and comfortable. She said,

“Did Tommy’s letter say Gilbert had married a girl called Marie Dubois in Canada?”

“It did. Without saying where or when. Anonymity strictly preserved throughout. Let me see-he was in Canada, wasn’t he?”

“A long time ago. He couldn’t have been more than about twenty. I wonder if he really did marry Marie.”

“May have done. If he was had for a mug when he was all that young and she was dead, he might not have thought it necessary to mention her. Or there might have been a divorce. I should hardly think he would risk being run in for bigamy. We’ll ask him about it some day. Just casually, you know-at a cocktail party, or a railway station, or any of the other places where you are liable to have a head-on collision with the people you don’t want to meet.”

“Darling, what a fool you are!”

What a heavenly feeling to be able to laugh at something that had been a nightmare. They laughed together. Jason said,

“What do you bet I don’t do it? Some day when we are safely married. I would, you know, for tuppence. Something on the lines of ‘Oh, by the way, what happened to that girl you married in Canada, Marie Dubois?’ ”

“You wouldn’t!”

“You wait and see!”

Scilla Repton lifted the telephone receiver in the study and asked for a London number. Of course the girl in the telephone exchange would listen if she thought there was anything to listen to, but what did it matter? If you lived in a village you didn’t have any private affairs to speak of anyway. If you heard too often from anyone, Mrs. Gurney at the post office got to know the writing and could make a pretty shrewd guess at the writer. Scilla had heard her say quite openly across the counter things like, “Oh, no, Mrs. Lawson, there’s nothing from your Ernie to-day-just a card from your sister in Birmingham.”

She waited for the click of the receiver and thought what she was going to say. It took her some time to get hold of Gilbert Earle, and when she did get him he couldn’t have sounded stuffier. He heard her laugh.

“Really, Gilbert-what a voice! Anyone would think we had quarrelled!”

He said in very good French, “A little discretion, if you please.”

She sounded amused.

“I can’t be bothered. Besides there’s nothing to bother about. Roger tells me the wedding is off, and a good job too. Anyone could see with half an eye that it was going to be a case of marry in haste and repent at leisure, so you’re well out of it, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you.”

She allowed her voice to soften.

“It’ll all come out in the wash, darling. Look here, I’ve got to come up to town, and I thought we might lunch together. What about it?”

“I hardly think this is the moment.”

“What a foul thing to say! It’s Val who has turned you down, not me. I thought I might provide a little hand-holding-you sound as if you needed it. Nothing like being seen about with somebody else as soon as possible. I mean, darling, how much more agreeable to have people coming up and asking you who was the smashing blonde you were lunching with, instead of drifting along to condole at some horrid solitary snack bar. You know, what you want at the moment is a tonic, and so do I. I’ll say I’m going to the dentist. That always goes down well, and as a matter of fact I’m about due for a date with him. And Mamie would lend us her flat and not ask any questions. So Monday at the old place at one o’clock. The best of everything!” She rang off in a hurry because she thought she heard a movement behind her.

But she had not rung off in time. The sound which she had heard was not the sound of the opening but of the closing door. Roger Repton was already in the room. The latch clicked, he leaned back against the panels, and said in an odd dead voice,

“Who were you talking to?”

She said the first name that came into her head, the one she had used to Gilbert Earle.

“Mamie Foster. I’ve got to go and see the dentist, and I thought I’d go back to her flat afterwards and have a bit of a rest before coming down again. He may want to give me gas.”

He stood there with his hand on the door behind him.

“That is a lie.”

“Roger!”

His voice had not altered. She knew his temper to be a violent one. There was something unnatural about this leaden tone. He said,

“You were not talking to Mamie Foster, you were talking about her. You were going to meet Gilbert Earle, and you were talking to him. You said, ‘I’ll say I’m going to the dentist-that always goes down well. And Mamie would lend us her flat and not ask any questions.’ And you would meet him at the old place at one o’clock on Monday. You see it’s no use telling any more lies, because I know. If you have been in the habit of meeting him at Mamie Foster’s flat, it should be possible to get evidence of the fact, in which case I shall divorce you. Someone was kind enough to send me an anonymous letter informing me that you have been having an affair with Gilbert. I think Valentine probably had a letter too. I haven’t asked her, and she hasn’t said so, but I imagine that you have had your share in breaking up her marriage. You can go to Gilbert Earle, or you can go to your accommodating friend Mamie Foster, or you can go to hell. But I should like you to get out of my house.” He stood away from the door and opened it. “You had better go and pack.”

She was between fear and anger. Something desperate in her was urging her to burn her boats. Why not kick over the traces, upset the apple cart, and get back to the old life? She was better looking than she had ever been, and her figure was just as good. She could get back into the show business, and Gilbert would come to heel all right. She was fed to the teeth with the country and with Roger. But she was frightened of this desperate urge. She could remember the times when she had been out of a job-when she was cold, tired, hungry, and nobody cared a damn whether she lived or died. If Roger divorced her she would lose the money he had settled on her. There were the horrid words in the settlement which the lawyer had been careful to explain to her-dum casta, whilst chaste. If she went through the divorce court she wouldn’t get a penny. But if she stayed here-if she could stick it out-and Roger died… She wouldn’t be so badly off at all… He was getting on…