"I don't remember seeing him wear the wrist-buttons," said Olive. "Women, you know, are observant of these little things. Do you remember Mrs. Slarge reading out her sister's letter in the presence of Angus?"
"Yes, perfectly. It was then Carson showed us the bangle."
"Yes. Well, I looked then for these wrist-buttons, but I noticed he wore silver sleeve-links."
"But he never wore the others," retorted Olive. "Again and again I watched for them. This is the first I have seen, and it comes from Margery, not from Angus."
"Did you speak to your husband about it?"
"No; as I say, I was busy when Margery gave it to me, and I slipped it into my pocket without thinking. It was only on looking at it again, the other day, that its resemblance to the bracelet struck me. I wear it as a stud rather than as a brooch; you see, it has no catch-pin."
"Well, I think perhaps the best way would be to ask your husband how Dr. Drabble comes to possess a wrist-button so similar to his bracelet."
Olive turned suddenly pale, and hung her head. "I cannot," she said, faintly; "he has left me."
"Left you?" repeated Mallow, scarcely able to believe his ears. "Why--when?"
"Nearly a fortnight ago. It was not possible for us to continue living together. I hated him, and he did not care in the least for me. It was solely for my money that he married me; and now that he has it, he has no further use for me. We agreed it was best to separate. I was glad to do so."
"Not of my own free will. You know I was the victim of circumstances. I told you everything about my father's letter. Here it is; read it yourself, and tell me if I could have acted otherwise."
In silence Mallow took the letter from her. He noticed that her hand trembled. In silence he read it through.
It was a strange letter, and it had apparently been written under stress of great mental excitement. The man might have been in mortal terror when he penned those lines. The warning at the close was a very cry of anguish.
"I can say nothing. We seem to move in a world of mystery."
"I admit that you were forced to obey the letter," answered Mallow. "Whether you acted rightly is not quite the same thing."
"You are not just to me," cried Olive, passionately. "I loved my father dearly. He was always so good to me. I should have been wicked to ignore so solemn a command. Had it been only a question of money, I would readily have surrendered it all to Mr. Brock. But my father's dying wish--I could not disregard it, I could not."