‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. “You are late,” she murmured. ‘His wife? Pah!’ ‘You’re saying she is not his wife?’ ‘I am saying nothing. ’ ‘But—’ ‘Do not argue with me, but go at once,’ ordered Melusine swiftly, taking a high tone intended to subdue the independent spirit Kimble had lately shown himself to possess. Still, one never could tell. You know what? I’m going to make a surprise announcement at the concert tonight, but I wanted to give you the heads up. “I will go,” he said. “Great Scott!” he exclaimed huskily.
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