MR PHILIP CHASER elicited Edward Albert’s ideas about the business in hand. He drew them out one by one, offering very little comment. He had just become a member of the Junior Conservative Club in Whitehall Place, and thither with a certain worldly pride he had conducted Edward Albert. It seemed to both of them a far more suitable place for discussing the grave problem before them than Millie Chaser’s home. They sat in a quiet corner of the huge smoking-room and Mr Philip asked his questions like a solicitor preparing a case.
Finally he summed up. He neighed with unusual force and duration so that distant plotters in the smoking-room suspended their machinations and looked round apprehensively. “All this,” he said, “is going to cost you a lot of money. You think you are going to get damages, heavy damages, you say, but who is going to pay you damages and — hey — what are they going to pay damages for? All she’s done is to pack up and go. That’s no grounds for a divorce. You might get a legal separation, and so far as I know, that’s no comfort to anybody. I’ve never — hey — in the course of my life met a separated man or a separated woman. I absolutely don’t know, abso-lutely, where they go and what they do with themselves and each other. Yes, you think you can put detectives on to her to watch her and catch her out. As you don’t know where she’s gone. . . . Oh, I’m not going to tell you. I— hey — promised not to. You’ll have to find out where she is and where she goes, and you’ll have to have her caught in — what’s the word? flagrante delicto. Tedious and annoying. And meanwhile the law insists that you must lead a blameless life, absolutely blameless. You’re not rich enough to go abroad and live in a state of — hey — inaccessible sin, and there’s an excellent functionary called the King’s Proctor who has a small fund available for — hey — watching you to see you are blameless. For the better part of a year, Mr Teddy. In the interests of Justice, Religion and order, I understand. She can kick up her heels as much she likes, but you will just have to listen to your Private Enquiry Agent’s reports. You’ll find them — infuriating — absolutely infuriating. . . . You aren’t going to stand that! No? And what are you going to do about it?”
He laid a restraining hand upon Edward Albert’s arm
“Listen,” he said. “The only person who can make all this business reasonably cheap and easy is your wife. Suppose she has another man, if you go on dreaming of getting those damages out of him she’ll fight like the devil to see he doesn’t pay them. That’s only natural. Particularly as I suspect he’s a married man. But if she goes to some little country pub somewhere and sends you a confession and the bill, and tells you she hasn’t the remotest intention of giving you the man’s real name, there’s your evidence. Your Private Enquiry Agent will see to the evidence. And there you are.”
“But there’s eight or ten months I got to wait?”
“Ask the law. Ask the church. Ask the Divo............