“And what was the immediate effect on the home circle?” asked the Journalist.

“All the girls bought themselves bicycles; the feminine cycling craze was still in existence, and Crispina had rigidly vetoed any participation in it among the members of her household.  The youngest boy let himself go to such an extent during his next term that it had to be his last as far as that particular establishment was concerned.  The elder boys propounded a theory that their mother might be wandering somewhere abroad, and searched for her assiduously, chiefly, it must be admitted, in a class of Montmartre resort where it was extremely improbable that she would be found.”

“And all this while couldn’t your uncle get hold of the least clue?”

“As a matter of fact he had received some information, though of course I did not know of it at the time.  He got a message one day telling him that his wife had been kidnapped and smuggled out of the country; she was said to be hidden away, in one of the islands off the coast of Norway I think it was, in comfortable surroundings and well cared for.  And with the information came a demand for money; a lump sum of 2000 pounds was to be paid yearly.  Failing this she would be immediately restored to her family.”

The Journalist was silent for a moment, and them began to laugh quietly.

“It was certainly an inverted form of holding to ransom,” he said.

“If you had known my aunt,” said the Wine Merchant, “you would have wondered that they didn’t put the figure higher.”

“I realise the temptation.  Did your uncle succumb to it?”

“Well, you see, he had to think of others as well as himself.  For the family to have gone back into the Crispina thraldom after having tasted the delights of liberty would have been a tragedy, and there were even wider considerations to be taken into account.  Since his bereavement he had unconsciously taken up a far bolder and more initiatory line in public affairs, and his popularity and influence had increased correspondingly.  From being merely a strong man in the political world he began to be spoken of as the strong man.  All this he knew would be jeopardised if he once more dropped into the social position of the husband of Mrs. Umberleigh.  He was a rich man, and the 2000 pounds a year, though not exactly a fleabite, did not seem an extravagant price to pay for the boarding-out of Crispina.  Of course, he had severe qualms of conscience about the arrangement.  Later on, when he took me into his confidence, he told me that in paying the ransom, or hush-money as I should have called it, he was partly influenced by the fear that if he refused it the kidnappers might have vented their rage and disappointment on their captive.  It was better, he said, to think of her being well cared for as a highly-valued paying-guest in one of the Lofoden Islands than to have her struggling miserably home in a maimed and mutilated condition.