Henley---for I must call him that--advanced a step toward us, his thin lips fashioning themselves into an ironic smile.
"You receive this information about as I supposed you would, Madam," he said coldly.

"I was doubtless the very last person you expected to encounter.

Your accomplice here informs me that I am supposed to be dead.

I am inclined to think you were both mistaken--but not more so than in regard to my marriage." She straightened up, her eyes shining.
"You are not Philip Henley," she said firmly.

"He is my husband." The smile widened, revealing the cruel white teeth.
"I expected heroics.