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felt deeply torn. He was very patient with her, for as long as she felt as she did she could not accept his conjugal advances. But as they talked, trust began to grow between them. He told her much about his family, for he realised that she knew very little about him. They had been married so quickly. His mother had died shortly after his birth, he said, and he was raised by old family servants. His father, grieving profoundly for his dead wife, went on drinking bouts, had terrible brawls, and disappeared for weeks at a time. When he had spent his anger and grief he returned to his infant son, on whom he lavished great attention and affection. Once, in one of his long descriptions, Reginald smiled and said that for years he thought he might have a brother somewhere, for his father had often hinted, saying that someday he would tell him about his little brother. It was finally on his deathbed that he told Reginald that he indeed had a half-brother, and that he should attempt to find him.
    “Our life in Nairobi was pleasant, and I decided finally that my reticence and indecision were an unnecessary cruelty to him, and we became truly married. I tried with all my strength to bury all thought of James. On the outside, we were happy and were considered to be a model couple. Reginald received several promotions for his service and, after four years, we were sent to Rangoon. We spent three years there. By now, Reginald was regarded by many as a future foreign secretary. It was at this point that he met the Earl of Kedleston, Lord Curzon, who upon his accession to the viceroyship asked that Reginald be transferred to Calcutta to act as his personal deputy. Reginald and I were thrilled when we got the news, for it meant another major step upwards in his career.”
    While they were in Burma, and shortly before their departure for Calcutta, she received word of her own father’s untimely demise. Her sister wrote that her mother was doing well under the circumstances, and that she should not try to return.
    “My sister also enclosed a packet of letters for me. They were from James and had come to me regularly for several years. My father had intercepted all of them and had hidden them in his files. At his death, my sister found them, and with the most mixed emotions, sent them to me. You can imagine, Mr. Holmes, with what consternation I looked upon those letters. James had used various ruses, but my father had always succeeded in getting the letters before anyone else. There were fifteen in all. They came from all over the world, mostly America. The last was dated seven years before and was from San Francisco. It was the last because James had decided that I no longer loved him and that he would stop writing. Every idle moment I had I spent reading and re-reading them for a clue as to his whereabouts, all the while cursing my father for what he had done to me and to James. Despite the deep despair that I felt, I managed to conceal my feelings from Reginald.”
    They left for Calcutta, arriving about a week later at the port at Hooghly. Quarters were already waiting for them and the move was swift and easy.
    At this point, said Holmes, Lady Maxwell paused for breath as if she were coming to the most difficult part of the story. Shortly after ther arrival, she said, they were invited to a large gathering at the home of a wealthy Indian trading family, the Shawsons, one of the leading families of Calcutta. There were many guests there, and the Viceroy and Lady Curzon paid a brief visit.
    “As I stood on the veranda looking over the gardens,” she said, “I felt a pair of eyes staring at me from behind. I turned. James Hamilton was standing there only a few feet away, the same look of love and disbelief in his eyes that he must have seen in mine. We could barely speak to each other, but we succeeded in arranging a secret meeting the following day. From that moment on, Mr. Holmes, I began a life of subterfuge here in Calcutta. James,