a very sweet girl. I'd never have thought that she'd be like this – that she'd behave like this, I mean.'
'What exactly has she been doing to you?'
What my 'wife' had done to me, I explained, was to come back.
'What did you think had happened to her?'
'I suppose it seems extraordinary – but I really didn't think. Actually, I suppose, I assumed she must be dead.'
Bradley shook his head at me.
'Wishful thinking. Wishful thinking. Why should she be dead?'
'She never wrote or anything. I never heard from her.'
'The truth is you wanted to forget all about her.'
He was a psychologist in his way, this beady-eyed little lawyer.
'Yes,' I said gratefully. 'You see, it wasn't as though I wanted to marry someone else.'
'But you do, now, eh, is that it?'
'Well -' I showed reluctance.
'Come now, tell Papa,' said the odious Bradley.
I admitted, shamefacedly, that, yes, lately, I had considered marrying.
But I stuck my toes in and refused firmly to give him any details about the girl in question. I wasn't going to have her brought into this. I wasn't going to tell him a thing about her.
Again, I think my reaction here was the correct one. He did not insist. Instead he said:
'Quite natural, my dear sir. You've got over your nasty experience in the past. You've found someone, no doubt, thoroughly suited to you. Able to share your literary tastes and your way of life. A true companion.'
I saw then that he knew about Hermia. It would have been easy. Any inquiries made about me would have revealed the fact that I had only one close woman friend. Bradley, since receiving my letter making the appointment, must have found out all about me, all about Hermia. He was fully briefed.
'What about divorce?' he asked. 'Isn't that the natural solution?'
I said: 'There's no question of divorce. She – my wife – won't hear of it!'
'Dear, dear. What is her attitude towards you, if I may ask?'
'She – er – she wants to come back to me. She – she's utterly unreasonable. She knows there's someone, and – and -'
'Acting nasty… I see… doesn't look as though there's any way out, unless of course… but she's quite young…'
'She'll live for years,' I said bitterly.
'Oh, but you never know, Mr Easterbrook. She's been living abroad, you say?'
'So she tells me. I don't know where she's been.'
'May have been out East. Sometimes, you know, you pick up a germ out in those parts – dormant for years! And then you come back home, and suddenly it blows up. I've known two or three cases like that. Might happen in this case. If it will cheer you up,' he paused, 'I'd bet a small amount on it.'
I shook my head.
'She'll live for years.'
'Well, the odds are on your side, I admit… but let's have a wager on it. Fifteen hundred to one the lady dies between now and Christmas: how's that?'
'Sooner! It will have to be sooner. I can't wait. There are things -'
I was purposely incoherent. I don't know whether he thought that matters between Hermia and myself had gone so far that I couldn't stall for time – or that my 'wife' threatened to go to Hermia and make trouble. He may have thought that there was another man making a play for Hermia. I didn't mind what he thought. I wanted to stress urgency.
'Alters the odds a bit,' he said. 'We'll say eighteen hundred to one your wife's a goner in under a month. I've got a sort of feeling about it.'
I thought it was time to bargain – and I bargained. Protested that I hadn't got that amount of money. Bradley was skilful. He knew, by some means or other, just what sum I could raise in an emergency. He knew that Hermia had money. His delicate hint that later, when I was married, I wouldn't feel the loss of my bet, was proof of that. Moreover, my urgency put him in a fine position. He wouldn't come down.
When I left him the fantastic wager was laid and accepted.
I signed some form of I.O.U. The phraseology was too full of legal phrases for me to understand. Actually I very much doubted that it had any legal significance whatever.
'Is this legally binding?' I asked him.
'I don't think,' said Mr Bradley, showing his excellent dentures, 'that it will ever be put to the test.'
His smile was not a very nice one. 'A bet's a bet. If a man doesn't pay up -'
I looked at him.
'I shouldn't advise it,' he said softly. 'No, I shouldn't advise it. We don't like welshers.'
'I shan't welsh,' I said.
'I'm sure you won't, Mr Easterbrook. Now for the – er – arrangements. Mrs Easterbrook, you say, is in London. Where, exactly?'
'Do you have to know?'
'I have to have full details – the next thing to do is to arrange an appointment for you with Miss Grey – you remember Miss Grey?'
I said of course I remembered Miss Grey.
'An amazing woman. Really an amazing woman. Most gifted. She'll want something your wife has worn – a glove – handkerchief – anything like that -'
'But why? In the name of -'
'I know, I know. Don't ask me why. I've not the least idea. Miss Grey keeps her secrets to herself.'
'But what happens? What does she do?'
'You really must believe me, Mr Easterbrook, when I tell you that honestly I haven't the least idea! I don't know – and what is more, I don't want to know – let's leave it at that.'
He paused, and then went on in an almost fatherly tone.
'My advice is as follows, Mr Easterbrook. Pay a visit to your wife. Soothe her down, let her think that you're coming round to the idea of a reconciliation. I should suggest saying that you have to go abroad for a few weeks, but that on your return et cetera et cetera…'
'And then?'
'Having purloined a trifle of daily wear in an unobtrusive manner, you will go down to Much Deeping.' He paused thoughtfully. 'Let me see, I think you mentioned on your previous visit that you had friends – relations – in the neighbourhood?'
'A cousin.'
'That makes it very simple. This cousin will doubtless put you up for a day or so.'
'What do most people do? Stay at the local inn?'
'Sometimes, I believe – or they motor over from Bournemouth. Something of that kind – but I know very little about the matter.'
'What – er – is my cousin likely to think?'
'You express yourself as intrigued by the inhabitants of the Pale Horse. You want to participate in a seance there. Nothing can sound simpler. Miss Grey and her medium friend often indulge in seances. You know what spiritualists are. You go protesting that of course it's nonsense, but that it will interest you. That is all, Mr Easterbrook. As you see, nothing can be simpler.'
'And – and, after that?'
He shook his head smiling.
'That's all I can tell you. All, in fact, that I know. Miss Thyrza Grey will then be in charge. Don't forget to take the glove, or handkerchief, or whatever it is with you. Afterwards, I would suggest that you take a little trip abroad. The Italian Riviera is very pleasant at this time of year. Just for a week or two, say.'
I said that I didn't want to go abroad. I said I wanted to stay in England.
'Very well, then, but definitely not London. No, I must strongly advise, not London.'
