” “I don’t believe it,” he answered hoarsely. What had been happening all this time? ‘Do you tell me he has not again left his apartment?’ ‘Only to go to some party or other Monday night,’ Kimble said. As she did so the preparation-room door opened behind her. Quite soon, after we were married—it was just within a year—I formed a friendship with the wife of a friend, a woman eight years older than myself. Brown broke the silence. Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. The unequal battle went on. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII.
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