My first proceeding was to avail myself of the sublime devotion of my wife.  I had arranged with Mrs. Clements that she should communicate her London address, in Anne’s interests, to Lady Glyde.  But this was not enough.  Designing persons in my absence might shake the simple confidence of Mrs. Clements, and she might not write after all.  Who could I find capable of travelling to London by the train she travelled by, and of privately seeing her home?  I asked myself this question.  The conjugal part of me immediately answered—­Madame Fosco.

After deciding on my wife’s mission to London, I arranged that the journey should serve a double purpose.  A nurse for the suffering Marian, equally devoted to the patient and to myself, was a necessity of my position.  One of the most eminently confidential and capable women in existence was by good fortune at my disposal.  I refer to that respectable matron, Madame Rubelle, to whom I addressed a letter, at her residence in London, by the hands of my wife.

On the appointed day Mrs. Clements and Anne Catherick met me at the station.  I politely saw them off, I politely saw Madame Fosco off by the same train.  The last thing at night my wife returned to Blackwater, having followed her instructions with the most unimpeachable accuracy.  She was accompanied by Madame Rubelle, and she brought me the London address of Mrs. Clements.  After-events proved this last precaution to have been unnecessary.  Mrs. Clements punctually informed Lady Glyde of her place of abode.  With a wary eye on future emergencies, I kept the letter.

The same day I had a brief interview with the doctor, at which I protested, in the sacred interests of humanity, against his treatment of Marian’s case.  He was insolent, as all ignorant people are.  I showed no resentment, I deferred quarrelling with him till it was necessary to quarrel to some purpose.  My next proceeding was to leave Blackwater myself.  I had my London residence to take in anticipation of coming events.  I had also a little business of the domestic sort to transact with Mr. Frederick Fairlie.  I found the house I wanted in St. John’s Wood.  I found Mr. Fairlie at Limmeridge, Cumberland.

My own private familiarity with the nature of Marian’s correspondence had previously informed me that she had written to Mr. Fairlie, proposing, as a relief to Lady Glyde’s matrimonial embarrassments, to take her on a visit to her uncle in Cumberland.  This letter I had wisely allowed to reach its destination, feeling at the time that it could do no harm, and might do good.  I now presented myself before Mr. Fairlie to support Marian’s own proposal—­with certain modifications which, happily for the success of my plans, were rendered really inevitable by her illness.  It was necessary that Lady Glyde should leave Blackwater alone, by her uncle’s invitation, and that she should rest a night on the journey at her aunt’s house (the house I had in St. John’s Wood) by her uncle’s express advice.  To achieve these results, and to secure a note of invitation which could be shown to Lady Glyde, were the objects of my visit to Mr. Fairlie.  When I have mentioned that this gentleman was equally feeble in mind and body, and that I let loose the whole force of my character on him, I have said enough.  I came, saw, and conquered Fairlie.