‘I mean with Mrs. Tudor,’ he added correctively.  ’I’ll begin at the beginning.  After the disappearance—­the typhoid disappearance, you know—­she went to Algiers.  Tudor had taken a villa at Mustapha Superieure, the healthiest suburb of the town.  After Tudor’s sudden death I telegraphed to her to come back to me in Paris.  I couldn’t bring myself to wire that Tudor was dead.  I only said he was ill.  And at first she wouldn’t come.  She thought it was a ruse of Ravengar’s.  She thought Ravengar had discovered her hiding-place, and all sorts of things.  However, in the end she came.  I met her at Marseilles.  You wouldn’t believe, Mr. Hugo, how shocked she was by the news of her husband’s death.  Possibly I didn’t break it to her too neatly.  She didn’t pretend to love him—­never had done—­but she was shocked all the same.  I had a terrible scene with her at the Hotel Terminus at Marseilles.  Her whole attitude towards the marriage changed completely.  She insisted that it was plain to her then that she had simply sold herself for money.  She said she hated herself.  And she swore she would never touch a cent of Tudor’s fortune—­not even if the fortune went to the Crown in default of legal representatives.’

‘Poor creature!’ Hugo breathed.

‘However,’ Darcy proceeded, ’something had to be done.  She was supposed to be dead, and if her life was to be saved from Ravengar’s vengeance, she just had to continue to be dead—­at any rate, as regards England.  So she couldn’t go back to England.  Now I must explain that my friend Tudor hadn’t left her with much money.’

‘That was careless.’

‘It was,’ Darcy admitted.  ’Still, he naturally relied on me in case of necessity.  And quite rightly.  I was prepared to let Mrs. Tudor have all the money she wanted, she repaying me as soon as events allowed her to handle Tudor’s estate.  But as she had decided never to handle Tudor’s estate, she had no prospect of being able to repay me.  Hence she would accept nothing.  Hence she began to starve.  Awkward, wasn’t it?’

‘I see clearly that she could not come to England to earn her living,’ said Hugo, ‘but could she not have earned it in Paris?’

‘No,’ Darcy replied; ’she couldn’t earn it regularly.  And the reason was that she was too beautiful.  Situation after situation was made impossible for her.  She might easily have married in Paris, but earn her living there—­no!  In the end she was obliged to accept money from me, but only in very small sums, such as she could repay without much difficulty when Ravengar’s death should permit her to return to England.  She was always sure of Ravengar’s death, but she would never tell me why.  And now he’s dead.’

‘And there is no further obstacle to her coming to England?’

‘None whatever.  That is to say—­except one.’

‘What do you mean?’ Hugo demanded.

Darcy had flushed.