A Duel Part 19

"I'm as strong as you; I believe I'm stronger; I believe I could kill you if I chose."

"Be a murderer as well as a thief, would you? I shouldn't be surprised. You mightn't find it so easy to bring off this job as you did the other; killing a man is not so simple as killing a pig, take my word for it."

"Listen to me, Gregory Lamb."

"I'm listening, Mrs. Lamb, and it gives me real pleasure to do it."

"I'll make a rich man of you if you'll take yourself off."

He stayed the lighted match on its pa.s.sage to his pipe.

"You'll make a rich man of me? Now you're singing in quite another key. How are you going to do it?"

"I'm staying in the house of a man who's dying."

"Dying is he? Then what does he want you in the house for? Have you turned nurse? Is that your latest caper?"

"Never mind what I've turned. He's a rich man."

"What do you call rich?--like me?"

"You fool! He owns all this"--she threw out her arms--"and ever so much besides."

"Owns all this? Is it Cuthbert Grahame you're talking about?"

"What do you know about Cuthbert Grahame?"

"Only that I happen to be living in one of his cottages--just over there--and a nice hole it is. But you can't expect much in the way of board and lodging for a pound a week, especially when you want some change left out of it. You're living in Cuthbert Grahame's house? Why, then--great Scot!--you must be the woman they're talking about who dropped from the skies." A change took place in the expression of his countenance which in its way was comical. "A pretty sort of she-devil you must be!"

"Now what are you talking about?"

"I know everything. Why, one of the servants up at Cuthbert Grahame's--Martha Blair--is the daughter of the people I'm lodging with. They talk of nothing else but you. You've been pa.s.sing yourself off as Cuthbert Grahame's wife."

"Well, what of it?"

"What of it?--that's good! First theft, then bigamy!"

"You fool! he's dying."

"I don't see what difference that makes; from what I understand he's been dying for years."

"He's made a will in my favour."

"Did he tell you?"

"He did. He's left me everything--every s.h.i.+lling he has in the world."

"You're a beauty, upon my soul you are!"

"And I tell you that he's dying while we are standing here. The odds are that he'll be dead by the time that I get back."

"How do you know?"

"Then everything he has will be mine--ours."

"Ours?"

"Ours!--yours and mine!--if you can keep a still tongue in your head, and keep on pretending that you know nothing about me."

He was trembling.

"What about the Mrs. Grahame?"

"Stuff the Mrs. Grahame! After he's dead I can soon be Mrs. Lamb again. What's to stop me?"

"Shall we have to live here?"

She shuddered, involuntarily.

"Live here?--not much! We'll clear out of this in double quick time. We'll take a house in London, and live like princes."

He moistened his lips with his tongue.

"You'll act on the square with me?"

"Of course I will, if you'll act on the square with me. Look here, there's a ten-pound note for you. It's all I've got about me, but as you seem hard up you may find it useful. You go back, and unless I'm mistaken by to-morrow morning you'll hear he's dead. It won't take me long to put things s.h.i.+p-shape. Don't you write or try to see me, unless I give you the office. I'll keep you posted in how things are going. And so soon as I can lay hands on a good lot of the ready, if you like we'll go up to town together, and we'll have a real old spree as we go."

"Belle, you--you're----"

He stopped, as if his vocabulary failed him altogether.

"Yes, I know I am; I'm all that, and more besides."

She laughed, and he laughed. In the laughter of neither of them was there any merriment. The sounds they emitted were merely mechanical.

CHAPTER XIV

IN CUTHBERT GRAHAME'S ROOM

On Isabel's return to the house she was greeted on the threshold by Martha, the Martha Blair whose connection with Gregory Lamb's present place of residence seemed destined to have a considerable bearing on Isabel's future life, and, at least, to settle the debated question of what her future name and t.i.tle were to be. Martha's whole att.i.tude was significant of some great happening. Her hands were raised; it seemed that if possible her hair would have been raised too; her eyebrows were elevated to quite a perceptible degree. Her eyes and mouth were wide open; agitation, of a not unpleasant kind, streamed from every pore of her. Behind was Jane, every whit as interested as her companion; but as she happened to be both the younger and the smaller her opportunities for display were less p.r.o.nounced.

Outside stood Dr. Twelves' dogcart; the horse, untended and untethered, apparently content to stand still as long as any one desired.

Martha broke into speech before Isabel had a chance to plant her foot upon the doorstep.

"Oh, Mrs. Grahame, the master! Mr. Cuthbert, ma'am!"