Part 28 (1/2)

”I know I can't, and there's something else that I can't prove.”

”What's that?”

”I believe she murdered him.”

”David!”

”She was equal to it; and I'm beginning to see more clearly how she brought herself to the sticking point. The day before his death Margaret Wallace called----”

”Margaret Wallace? you don't say!”

”She told me so herself this afternoon. She was refused admission as she supposed by Nannie Foreshaw. I happen to know that Nannie couldn't have got out of bed and gone downstairs to save her life--that woman had taken care of that. Before I came to you I wrote to Nannie asking if she did, to make sure. I believe that woman played at being Nannie, imitating her voice.

She may have known Margaret's story, probably Grahame had told her, and was aware that if she returned and saw him her reign was at an end. So she precipitated matters. She juggled that will into existence, and, directly she had done so, killed him.”

”It's a weighty charge you're making, David; be careful how you make it.”

”Do you think I don't know that it's a weighty charge? I'm not making it. I'm only telling you what's in my mind, as between friends. I'll not breathe a word of the matter to any one but you till I can bring it into court, and prove it. At present, in your lawyer's sense, I've not proof enough to cover a pin's point. But, Andrew, though the mills of G.o.d grind slowly, they grind surely, and exceeding fine. Maybe one day G.o.d's finger will press her in between the stones, then you'll know that the conviction which is implanted in my breast is of the nature of the prophetic vision. G.o.d has shown me, though I cannot tell you how.”

There was silence. The doctor, still standing, bent over the table on which stood the coffee and liqueurs, pointing with one skinny finger upwards. He continued in that att.i.tude for a perceptible period after he had ceased to speak. Then Mr.

McTavish's voice broke the spell which he seemed to have cast upon the air.

”David, you use big words. I don't--it's not my way. But confidence begets confidence. I'll tell you something in return--and that without insulting you by asking if you can keep a still tongue--because I know you can.”

The doctor returned to a more normal att.i.tude, seeming to do so with an effort, as if he were shaking something from him. He spoke in his ordinary tones.

”Let me light another cigar before you begin. This sort of talk's disquieting, especially after such a dinner as I've had.

I think a tonic might not be amiss.” He sipped his liqueur.

”Andrew, this is not bad brandy.”

”A hogshead wouldn't hurt you.”

”Wouldn't it? Is it your custom to drink brandy by the hogshead?

I thought you didn't use big words.”

”It's a figure of speech, David--a figure of speech. If you have that cigar properly lighted, and will sit down like a decent creature, I'll have my say--that is, if you have not had enough of the matter under discussion.”

”You're not more ready to talk than I am to listen. Now, Andrew, I'm at your service.”

”Well, you suspect this lady of something more than misdemeanour. I may tell you that I doubt if she would have done what she did do--if she did it!--if she had known what she knows now.”

”You speak in parables.”

”I'll be plain enough. Did you know anything about Cuthbert Grahame's affairs?--his financial affairs, I mean.”

”Something.”

”Had you any idea how much he was worth?”

”He told me himself, not once but frequently, that he was worth nearer three hundred thousand pounds than two hundred thousand.

He said, moreover, that his investments brought him in an average interest of over ten per cent. He had made several lucky hits.”