he landlady, suddenly dropping the
character of a martyr, and assuming the character of a vixen in its
place. "I blush when I think of it. I followed that most respectable
person every step of the way to her own door."

Thus far my pride had held me up. It sustained me no longer. I dropped
back again into my chair, in undisguised dread of what was coming next.

"I gave you a look when I left you on the beach," pursued the landlady,
growing louder and louder and redder and redder as she went on. "A
grateful woman would have understood that look. Never mind! I won't
do it again I overtook your mother-in-law at the gap in the cliff. I
followed her--oh, how I feel the disgrace of it _now!_--I followed her
to the station at Broadstairs. She went back by train to Ramsgate. _I_
went back by train to Ramsgate. She walked to her lodgings. _I_ walked
to her lodgings. Behind her. Like a dog. Oh, the disgrace of it!
Providentially, as I then thought--I don't know what to think of it
now--the landlord of the house happened to be a friend of mine, and
happened to be at home. We have no secrets from each other where
lodgers are concerned. I am in a position to tell you, madam, what your
mother-in-law's name really is. She knows nothing about any such person
as Mrs. Woodville, for an excellent reason. Her name is _not_ Woodville.
Her name (and consequently her son's name) is Macallan--Mrs. Macallan,
widow of the late General Macallan. Yes! your husband is _not_ your
husband. You are neither maid, wife, nor widow. You are worse than
nothing, madam, and you leave my house!"

I stopped her as she opened the door to go out. She had roused _my_
temper by this time. The doubt that she had cast on my marriage was more
than mortal resignation could endure.

"Give me Mrs. Macallan's address," I said.

The landlady's anger receded into the background, and the landlady's
astonishment appeared in its place.

"You don't mean to tell me you are going to the old lady herself?" she
said.

"Nobody but the old lady can tell me what I want to know," I answered.
"Your discovery (as you call it) may be enough for _you_; it is not
enough for _me_. How do we know that Mrs. Macallan may not have been
twice married? and that her first husband's name may not have been
Woodville?"

The landlady's astonishment subsided in its turn, and the landlady's
curiosity succeeded as the ruling influence of the moment.
Substantially, as I have already said of her,