It was
hard, however, to gather anything from his face.
"Beatrice thought otherwise," Elizabeth admitted. "She thought
that I ought to nurse him, put up with him, give up all my
friends, and try and keep him alive. Why, it would have been
absolute martyrdom, misery for me," she declared. "How could I
be expected to do such a thing?"
Tavernake nodded gravely.
"And the money?" he asked.
"Well, perhaps there I was a trifle calculating," she confessed.
"But you," she added, nodding at the cheque in his hand,
"shouldn't grumble at that. I knew when we were married that I
should have trouble. His people hated me, and I knew that in the
event of anything happening like this thing which has happened,
they would try to get as little as possible allowed me. So
before we left New York, I got Wenham to turn as much as ever he
could into cash. That we brought away with us."
"And who took care of it?"
Elizabeth smiled.
"I did," she answered, "naturally."
"Tell me about last night," Tavernake said. "I suppose I am
stupid but I don't quite understand."
"How should you?" she answered. "Listen, then. Wenham, I
suppose got tired of being shut up with Mathers, although I am
sure I don't see what else was possible. So he waited for his
opportunity, and when the man wasn't looking--well, you know what
happened," she added, with a shiver. "He got up to London
somehow and made his way to Dover Street."
"Why Dover Street?"
"I suppose you know," Elizabeth explained, "that Wenham has a
brother--Jerry--who is exactly like him.
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