The Lindsays : $b A romance of Scottish life, Volume 2 (of 3)Leys, John K. (John Kirkwood)
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The Lindsays : $b A romance of Scottish life, Volume 2 (of 3)
Leys, John K. (John Kirkwood)
Scotland -- Fiction
‘Don’t bother me with questions now. I’ll tell you all by-and-by, if
you wish it. Did he get the letter?’
‘Yes, I was in his room when he opened it.’
‘Good.’
‘And I saw him take out the two papers you described.’
‘Yes? Do be quick; some one will be coming down.’
‘He put the large one back into the envelope, and put it under his
pillow.’
‘And the thin one?’
‘He put it into the little desk which stands on the table at the foot
of his bed.’
‘You saw him do that?’
‘I did. He asked me to hand him the desk; he opened it, and put the
paper in.’
‘Did he lock the desk afterwards?’ asked Semple, dropping his voice.
‘Yes, he did.’
There was a minute’s pause.
‘What did he do with the key?’ was the next question.
‘The key was on a bunch. He put it back on the table--the little one,
close to his hand.’
‘I must get those keys,’ said Semple.
‘Not through me,’ said Laura, growing pale as she spoke. ‘I’ll have
nothing to do with taking away any papers, or burning them, or anything
of that sort.’
The girl was thoroughly frightened, and Semple saw that it was
necessary to reassure her.
‘Don’t be foolish,’ he said. ‘Who wants to steal anything? I want to
see that paper, and I must see it.’
‘Well; I can’t help you.’
‘Look here, Laura, you don’t understand. I’m trying to counteract the
schemes of that villain, Dr. Mackenzie. If I succeed, I shall have two
hundred thousand pounds under my uncle’s will.’
‘Two hundred thousand pounds!’
‘Yes; or between a hundred and fifty and two hundred thousand, at any
rate. We shall be able to go to Italy: all round the world, if we
like. Eight or ten thousand a year, Laura; think of that! You see it’s
worth taking a little trouble for. Can’t you get the desk and the bunch
of keys out of the room, just for five minutes?’
‘Impossible,’ said Laura firmly. ‘I have no idea where your uncle
generally keeps his keys; very likely in some drawer that is locked up.
You needn’t think of it.’
There was another pause.
‘There is one way,’ said Laura slowly.
‘Yes; what way?’
‘Though I can’t get the keys, I might get the desk out of the room.
Or you might do it yourself. You see, the desk stands on the table at
the foot of the bed, out of your uncle’s sight. It is not heavy, quite
a small thing, and easy to move. You have only to find out when your
uncle is asleep, and quietly carry the desk out of the room. The nurse
would never dream of interfering with you. Of course, you would have to
bring it back soon, in case your uncle should ask for it.’
‘Of what use would the desk be, without the key?’
Laura smiled contemptuously, but suddenly she grew grave.
‘I have said quite enough,’ her face said pretty plainly.
‘Could you get me the desk, or let me know when it would be safe to
take it?’ was Semple’s next question, spoken almost in a whisper.
‘Think how much may depend on it,’ he added.
‘Why should so much depend on it?’
‘I can hardly tell you.’
‘Never mind,’ said Laura hastily. ‘It doesn’t matter to me.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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