Page:The Strand Magazine (Volume 3).djvu/569

 I admit, permit of calm deliberation. But you're not the man I took you for, if the first refusal is to be considered a defeat. Did she give no reason for her rejection?"

"Oh, yes; she was perfectly frank on that point. She rejected me for reasons which, I must allow, should be convincing."

"Come, that's something."

"Yes, that's something," echoed Felix, with a ghastly attempt at a smile.

"And the reasons, may I ask?"

"Oh, that marriage with her would mean penal servitude for the husband. Simple enough, weren't they?"

I flung my cigar away and listened intently. The case was getting interesting.

"And she made the confession," my friend continued, "with a divine smile, as though it were the most natural thing in the world."

"I take it all back about your diplomacy, Felix. I see that the thing is impossible. Married already, eh?—though even in that case I can't see how the penalty you mention would attach to husband No. 2."

"Married, no!" he thundered. "She is not married; never has been."

"Pardon me," I said, "this is getting too bewildering. I give it up, as I presume you will," and I smoked again.

"Neither is that my intention. I will not give it up. I'm convinced there is something more in this than appears upon the surface, and I'm determined to fathom it."

"Very well; I wish you good luck in your endeavours, and an easy time when it comes to the oakum. If I can get a remission in the sentence, you may count upon my services."

Though I spoke thus cynically to my friend, I was really very sorry for him. I was well aware of the strength of his attachment to Theresa Meadows, and I had imagined that she also regarded him with some favour. I could not make out the meaning of this remarkable confession of hers-whether it had been adopted as a drastic expedient for cutting off Felix from all hope of her hand, or whether there was some mystery connected with her past life which really made union with her criminal. Her confession was the more astounding in that her life had been regarded as a perfectly spotless one, spite of the Bohemian circle in which she moved, and of which she was the admired queen. I awaited, therefore, with some curiosity, further developments. I knew that Felix would be true to his word, and would leave no stone unturned to fathom the mystery.

A fortnight later Felix again called upon me. He was more feverishly excited than before but his eyes, formerly dull with the ashes of dejection, were now aglow with the fire of hope.

"Ah, the auguries are a little more favourable this time," I remarked. "Accepted?"

"My dear fellow, you have missed your vocation. Give up journalism for prophecy. You speak with greater regard for precision in the one character than the other."

"A propos of oakum, eh?"

"Oh, that was in your journalistic vein."

But my friend moved a bit nervously in his chair.

"Then I'm to congratulate you?"