“Which side is he?”

“Liberal.  But to a man of your large views, that of course makes no difference.”

“Not a bit!” Northway replied, obviously flattered.  “You are a Conservative, then?”

“Yes; I am Conservative.  I think (as I am sure you do) that Liberalism is a mere name, used for the most part by men who want to make tools of the people.”

“Yes, I agree with that,” said Northway, putting his head aside and drawing in his cheeks.

Glazzard repressed a smile, and smoked for a moment.

“What I want you to do,” he continued, “is this.  To-morrow, by an early train, you will go down to this borough I speak of.  You will find your way to the Court-house, and will get leave to make an appeal for the magistrate’s advice.  When you come forward, you will say that your wife has deserted you—­that a friend of yours has seen her in that town, and has discovered that she has committed bigamy—­that you wish for the magistrate’s help—­his advice how to take proceedings.  And, finally, you will state in a particularly clear voice that your wife is Mrs. So-and-so, illegally married to Mr. So-and-so, Liberal candidate.”

He spoke in hurrying accents, and as he ceased the cigar fell from his fingers.

“But I thought you said that they weren’t married at all?”

“They are not.  But you mustn’t know it.  Your friend—­who informed you (say it was a man casually in the town, a commercial traveller, who knew your wife formerly by sight)—­took it for granted they were married.  If you knew she had not broken the law, you would have no excuse for going into Court, you see.”

Northway pondered the matter, clicking with his tongue.

“You remember, I hope,” pursued Glazzard, “all I told you at Clifton about the position of these people?”

“Yes, I remember.  How long have they been together?”

“About two years.”

“Has she a child?”

“No.  Now, are you disposed to serve me?  If you consent, you will gain the knowledge of your wife’s whereabouts and the reward I promised—­which I shall pay now.  If you take the money and then spoil my scheme, you will find it has been useless dishonesty.  To-morrow, in any case, the facts will be made public.”

Northway glanced at him ill-humouredly.

“You needn’t be so anxious about my honesty, Mr. Marks.  But I should like to be made a little surer that you have been telling me the truth.  How do I know that my wife is really living as you say?  It seems to me I ought to have a sight of her before I go talking to magistrates.”

Glazzard reflected.

“Nobody,” pursued the other, “would make such a charge just on hearsay evidence.  It would only be common sense for me to see her first.”

“That objection is reasonable.  If you knew how well-assured I am of this lady’s identity, you would understand why your view of the matter never occurred to me.  You must say that you have seen her, that’s all—­seen her coming out of her house.”