Mrs. Byfield was either unusually excited or was strung up to a pitch whereat nothing could strike her as unusual was immediately evident to the two men of law.
She showed no surprise at seeing either as they advanced to meet her, and her words were addressed, not to them, but to Georgina, who just then came along the hall to meet her.
"Where is Fanshawe?" she asked. "You got my telegram?"
"Gone down to the Safe Deposit," answered Georgina. "He'll be back presently."
Mrs. Byfield turned, then looked inquiringly at Semmerby.
"You’re surprised to see us here!" he said.
"No," she answered, "I’m surprised at nothing just now! "And here or at Selchester, it doesn't matter. We were going back by the afternoon train to see you. This gentleman was coming with me."
"Your son," said Semmerby, "has been asking what all this is about. I’m inclined to ask the same, Mrs. Byfield."
Mrs. Byfield turned to Georgina and pointed to the office.
"Ask them to show us into a private room, somewhere," she said. "I'll tell you everything in a few minutes," she continued, glancing at Semmerby. "Mr. Linthwaite there knows some of it. And I shall be glad to tell it to you while Fanshawe’s out of the way. I shall have to tell him of—things—later, when we’re alone."
She said no more until a waiter had shown them into a private parlour. Then she indicated the elderly clergyman.
"Mr. Winslow, vicar of Mingham Parva, in Berkshire," she said. "I went to see him yesterday about this. He’s been kind enough to get me some information I wanted and to come back with me to see you, Mr. Semmerby.
"The truth is," she continued, as they all sat down round a table, "I've kept back certain things until—well, until they can’t be kept back any longer. I told Georgina something of the truth on Sunday night, and she advised me to clear matters up, once for all. And so I had to come up to town, and to find Mr. Winslow—and now, as you're here, I will tell, and have done with it.
"Mr. Linthwaite," she exclaimed, after a pause during which she seemed to be reflecting, "you know that before ever I married Martin Byfield, I'd been married to Cradock Melsome, a relative of yours."
"Sorry to say I do, Mrs. Byfield," replied Linthwaite. "I am sorry for two reasons—first, I know Cradock to have been a bad lot, always; second, I regret to say he's alive."
He was watching her keenly as he said the last words, and he felt, rather than saw, that Semmerby, too, was waiting for the effect of this blunt announcement. But Mrs. Byfield showed no surprise. Instead, she nodded her head in acquiescence.
"So do I know he's alive," she answered. "He was brought to see me last week—twice—by his brother Charles, who's been living at Selchester for two years—on me! You know him, Mr. Semmerby. But he calls himself Christopher Mesham in Selchester."
The two solicitors exchanged glances.
"You know the effect of this, Mrs. Byfield," said Semmerby, after a pause. "It means that you were never legally married to Martin Byfield."
But Mrs. Byfield shook her head.
"It would mean that," she replied, "if I hadn't known something all these years, something that I never told to anybody but Martin Byfield. I've kept it quiet because I've a horror of raking things up, and I didn't want Fanshawe to know, and I hoped to end my days peaceably in Selchester without talk or gossip, which is impossible now, and because I'm easily got round, and lots of reasons.
"But it's got to come out. The truth is, I never was married to Cradock Melsome! Legally, anyway."
"Eh?" said Linthwaite. "You never were married to Cradock? But"
Mrs. Byfield leaned over the table, tapping it with an outstretched finger. She looked from Linthwaite to Semmerby, from Semmerby to Linthwaite.
"I went through a form of marriage with Cradock Melsome here in London," she answered. "And I believed it was all right. But it wasn't. Cradock Melsome, Mr. Linthwaite—you were Mr. John Herbert in those days—was already married! This gentleman married him, and his real wife is alive!"
The two solicitors, after a long stare at Mrs. Byfield, turned to the old clergyman.
"Can you speak as to this, sir?" asked Linthwaite.
"I can speak as to what I know," replied Mr. Winslow. "Mrs. Byfield has given me the date of her marriage to Cradock Melsome, which took place, as she says, here in London."
"Now, two years before that I married Cradock Melsome to a parishioner of my own, who still lives in my parish. I have been vicar of Mingham Parva for forty-one years."
"There's proof of this?" asked Linthwaite.