dmitted.

"You married him, then, only because he was rich?"

She smiled.

"What else do women marry for, my dear moralist?" she demanded. "It
isn't my fault if it doesn't sound pretty. One must have money!"

Tavernake inclined his head gravely; he made no sign of dissent.

"You two came over to England," he went on, "with Beatrice and your
father. Beatrice left you because she disapproved of certain things."

Elizabeth nodded.

"You may as well know the truth," she said. "Beatrice has the most
absurd ideas. After a week with Wenham, I knew that he was not a person
with whom any woman could possibly live. His valet was really only his
keeper; he was subject to such mad fits that he needed some one always
with him. I was obliged to leave him in Cornwall. I can't tell you
everything, but it was absolutely impossible for me to go on living with
him."

"Beatrice," Tavernake remarked, "thought otherwise."

Elizabeth looked at him quickly from below her eyelids. 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 e