Miss Silver Deals With Death by Patricia Wentworth Page A

it’s no use your asking me which one, because you took me there in a taxi and I wasn’t noticing about addresses—neither of us was. And the witnesses were the clerk and a man he brought in from the street. I’m sure I haven’t any idea what their names were.”
    “Where’s the marriage certificate?”
    “Darling, I don’t carry it about with me. You see, it wasn’t a great success, so we agreed to wash it out—only of course you were going to make me an allowance.”
    Giles laughed angrily.
    “Oh, I was, was I? Now we’re getting somewhere! I think you told Miss Underwood that you had a letter of mine. Perhaps you’ll let me see it.”
    Her lids dropped a little, the darkened lashes came down, the blue eyes narrowed.
    “Well, I don’t know, darling—you’re pretty strong, and you’re in a horrible temper. If I show it to you, will you promise not to snatch?”
    “I’m not trying to suppress evidence—I’m trying to get at the truth. I say you’re bluffing, and I’m calling your bluff.”
    Carola burst out laughing.
    “All right, darling, here we go! I’ll hold the letter up like I did for your Meade Underwood, and you shall see for yourself. Only no touching, no snatching—word of honour and all that sort of thing.”
    “I don’t want to touch anything—I want to see for myself. You say you’ve got a letter of mine—well, show it to me!”
    “Swear you won’t touch—you haven’t sworn.”
    Giles drove his hands deep into his pockets.
    “And I’m not going to. I’ve told you I don’t want to touch the thing. If that isn’t enough for you, I’m walking out. If you’ve got anything to show me, get on with it!”
    “Always the gentleman—aren’t you, darling? Really, you know, it’s almost as good as a certificate. People aren’t as rude as that except in the family circle.”
    Something opened and shut in Giles’ mind. It opened, and then it shut again—like a door. There wasn’t time to see what lay behind the door.
    Carola was coming towards him with the letter in her hand.
    “Well, here it is, and you can see for yourself. And then perhaps you’ll apologise, darling. Keep your hands in your pockets, and then you won’t be tempted to do anything you shouldn’t with them. There’s nothing like keeping out of temptation’s way, is there? Here you are!”
    She held up the sheet of paper just as she had held it up in front of Meade. He saw his own writing running across it on an upward slant. The pen had driven furiously. Here and there it had grazed the paper. He had been angry when he had driven his pen like that. His eyes went down the sheet and read what Meade had read. They came upon his own name. “I will allow you four hundred a year provided you will undertake to stop using the name of Armitage. If I find that you are breaking this condition I shall have no hesitation in cutting off supplies. You have, as you say, a perfect legal right to the name. It’s a good name, but I hardly think it is worth four hundred a year to you. And that, my dear Carola, is my last word.” That he had written these words, he could not have the slightest doubt. They confronted him, black and authentic, in what was certainly his own handwriting. He had written them. And it was quite incredible that he should have written them. He had offered Carola Roland four hundred a year to stop using his name.
    He turned his eyes from the evidence of his own words and saw, as Meade had seen, Carola’s hand holding the letter up for him to read, the long fingers with their scarlet nails, and the diamond ring with its one bright shining stone. His face changed so suddenly that she stepped back, folding the letter and pushing it down the front of her dress.
    Giles’ hands came out of his pockets. He made a step forward.
    “Where did you get that ring?”
    So that was it. How very amusing. The whole thing was going with a bang. First-class entertainment from start to finish. And had she been