"Oh, you poor chile--you don't half understan' dis ole woman!" chuckled the crone, delighted to find that she had puzzled the lawyer. "Spose de good doctor so good that he nebber get well? Eh, honey?" "What? poison?" broke out the lawyer, catching at the old woman's meaning so suddenly that he could not quite control his voice. "Hush-h-h! you fool!" hissed the old woman, rising at once, hobbling to the door and opening it suddenly--then closing it and returning to her chair. "You call yourself a lawyer, honey, and do such things as dat 'are? Done you know dem policers are sneakin' aroun' ebberywhere, up de stairways as well as ebberywhere else? An if one of dem happened to hear you speak such words, dis ole woman take a ride up to de Islan' in de Black Maria, and you go to de debbil, sure! Know all about 'em, honey--been dare afore!" "Humph!" said the lawyer, nevertheless using lower voice even for the disclaimer. "No danger, Aunty, I guess! There are no policemen now-a-days--only Provost-Marshal Kennedy's spies, looking for traitors. But what do you mean?--that I should get a doctor to--to--put him out of the way?" "Dats jes it, honey!" said the old woman, again rubbing her hands. "He is in de way--put him out and have de ole man's money." "Impossible!" spoke Egbert Crawford, in a tone which would have told a close observer--and probably told the old woman--that he only meant: "I do not see how to do it." "Give um somefin," graphically said the crone. "What!" spoke the lawyer, almost in as loud a tone as he had before used, and rising from his chair in apparent indignation. "Sit down, honey," said the old woman, with the same sneer in her voice that had before been apparent. "Oh, I know you is a good man and wouldn't do nuffin to hurt Cousin Dickey. Didn't kill his dog, nor nuffin, did you, honey, a good wile ago, jes because you didn't like _him_. Don't do nuffin now, if you don't want to! Let him have de girl, an de ole man's money, an--" "Woman!" said Egbert Crawford, rising altogether this time, and pacing the floor like a man a good deal unquieted. "I hate Dick Crawford, and you know it. I want Uncle John's money and I want Mary, and he is in my way in both cases. You may as well know the whole truth--I hate him enough to 'put him out of the way,' as we have both called it, but the thing is impossible. Any doctor to whom I should speak would have me arrested at once, for though they poison they do not wish to be suspected of such operations; and there is no other way. He will get well and go up to West Falls, and then all is over!" and the lawyer sunk his head on his breast as if he had been the most ill-used of individuals. "Not while your ole Aunty libs, Marser Egbert, if you dar do what she tells you!" The words struck some chord previously active in the brain of Crawford. He glanced up at the string of articles on the line of twine, then stopped short in his walk, before the old woman. "Well?"