Part 38 (1/2)

She shrank from him, with what seemed to be a gesture of involuntary and almost unconscious repulsion.

”Ay, the very worst. Only don't draw yourself from me like that, la.s.sie--for the love of Christ; for I'm but a poor old man that's sinned, and that's very near his end, and that would do all he can to repair his sin before death has him by the throat.”

”I--I didn't mean to be unkind, but--what were you going to say?”

”One thing's about his money--Cuthbert Grahame's money. Several times he spoke to me about you--more than kindly. I believe he had it in his mind--as I had, and have it, in mine--to repair the wrong he'd done you. I have reason to think that it was his intention to leave you at least a large portion of his fortune, to re-make the will I had helped him break. I believe that, with one of his cranky notions to be revenged on her for the part she'd played, he communicated his intention to her; that he went so far as to instruct her to draw up such a form of will as he required. My own impression is that she either actually did do this, or pretended to, and that, when the time came for him to affix his signature, she performed some feat of jugglery, which, under the circ.u.mstances, was easy enough, and so got him to sign a doc.u.ment which expressed the exact opposite of his wishes.”

”Do you mean that he thought he was leaving me his money when actually he was leaving it to her?”

”That's about the truth of it--I believe it strongly. I am persuaded that the will she produced she got from him by means of a trick. But that is not the worst.”

”Doctor, you're--you're like the old fable, you pile Pelion on Ossa.”

”I believe that when she had got the will into her possession, all signed and witnessed, she was confronted by the fact that exposure of its contents might render it invalid at any moment.

That is probably what would have happened, and in a very short time, so that to make sure, she killed him then and there.”

”Killed him!”

”I am convinced that Cuthbert Grahame was killed by the woman who called herself his wife, and that within ten minutes of the signing of his will. She propped him up with pillows, then, by suddenly withdrawing those which supported his head, she let it hang down, and so choked him. In order to avoid suffocation it was always necessary to keep his head well raised, a fact with which no doubt she had made herself acquainted.”

”Doctor! But was there no inquest?”

”Certainly; and I gave evidence. But what could I say? I had no proof--not an iota. I could only express my conviction that it was impossible for him to have moved the pillows himself; and I did. I doubt if that bare statement had any effect upon the verdict. She was a very clever woman.”

”Clever! you call her!--clever! If you are right she was an awful woman--you mustn't call her clever. That sort of thing's not cleverness.”

”Isn't it? I don't know what it is then. If we had realised her cleverness from the first we might have been prepared for her; she might have met her match. It is only by fully recognising the fact that we have to deal with an uncommonly clever woman that we shall have the slightest chance of getting the better of her, and bringing her to book.”

”Bringing her to book! Doctor! where is she? Is she at Pitmuir?”

”That's not the least strange part of the whole strange business--where she is. I've been wondering if it's a sign that G.o.d's finger has been slowly moving to set on her His brand. The young gentleman in whom, I presume, you take a certain amount of interest, since, one day, you design to honour him by allowing him to make of you his wife--Mr. Harry Talfourd--told me that he acts as secretary to a lady.”

”I know.”

”The lady's name is Lamb--Mrs. Gregory Lamb.”

”Yes.”

Margaret, as she uttered the word, was conscious of a catching in her breath; she herself did not know why.

”Mrs. Gregory Lamb is the woman I found by the roadside; who told me that her name was Isabel Burney; who called herself Mrs.

Cuthbert Grahame; who juggled into existence the will under which she inherits; who murdered the man out of whom she got it by a trick.”

Margaret was silent, curiously silent. Then she drew a long breath, and she said--

”Now I understand”.

The doctor was struck by something in her intonation which was odd.

”Just what is it you understand?”