"I did come." Callandar spoke slowly. "I came--" he paused, for how could he tell her that his coming had been to a house of death.
The bald answer, the strangeness of his gaze stirred her fear again. For a moment they stared at each other, each busy with the shifting puzzle. Then her quicker intuition abandoned the mystery of the present meeting to straighten out the past.
Impulsively he moved toward her but she shrank back, plainly terrified.
"Don't! I didn't know. I swear I did not know. I never saw the letter--until last night. And I don't understand. What--what did my mother tell you when you came?"
"There was only one thing which would have kept me from you, Molly."
"Only one thing? What?" she almost whispered.
The flash of understanding on her face showed that she, at least, had shifted part of the puzzle into place.
"I see now," she said slowly, "I have wondered ever since I saw the letter. But I did not think she would go that far. Yet it was the simplest way. There was no date on the letter--but I guessed that it must have come too late."
"Yes, or she would never have dared. Besides she might not have wanted to. She didn't know. I never had the courage to tell her. But if the letter had come in time--"
She faltered, growing confused under his intense gaze.
"In time for what?" he prompted patiently.
"Did you believe her when she said that?"
"Yes. Why should I have doubted? It seemed to be the end. I fainted on the doorstep. A long illness followed, when it was at its worst a friend came--helped me to pull out. When I was well again, I searched for your mother, employed detectives, but we never found her. Neither did we find anything upon which to hang a doubt of what she had told me."
"But _why?_ For God's sake, why? Why should she lie to me? I had never harmed her. We were married. I could give you a home. She knew it. I told her. Why should she do this senseless, horrible thing?"
She looked at him with wide eyes and stammered,
A sense of some hitherto undreamed horror came to him with that stammering whisper. The spur of it brought some of his firmness back.
"I do not know. There must have been a reason. You must tell me."
He forced her, through sheer will, to lift her eyes to his. They were startled and sullen. With a start he saw, what he had missed before, that this woman, his wife, was a stranger. But he had himself well in hand now and his gaze did not falter. There was no escaping its demands. Her answer came in a little burst of defiance.