Detective and mystery stories; England -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Landowners -- Fiction
"Hum!" said Rupert, lighting his pipe. "I remember that the windows of
the drawing-room were open on account of the heat. She stole along the
terrace, I presume."
"Yes, and heard every word," repeated Mallien significantly. "In the
first instance, you will understand that Mrs. Beatson only hovered
round you and the vicar to hear anything connected with her possible
dismissal. But, when she grasped the fact about the will, she became
aware that she had overheard a secret, which she could turn to her own
advantage. For a time she hesitated whether to let you or me buy her
silence. Then, thinking that I would get the money, she came and told
me all about it."
"Hum!" said Rupert again, and very calmly. "Rather treacherous
behavior toward me, considering how kind I treated her."
"Treachery be hanged!" burst out Mallien, leaving the wall and
throwing himself onto a convenient pile of books, which afforded him a
seat. "She wanted to see me righted."
"She wanted a price for her secret, I think you said."
"Well, and why not?" demanded the hairy little Timon, in a blustering
way. "It is only natural that you should wish to keep the secret, and
only natural that Mrs. Beatson should try and make money out of
telling it to me."
"I suppose it is, with some natures. So you are going to pay her."
"Yes! She's done me a good turn. I'll give her an annuity when I come
to live at The Big House."
"You are not there yet," said Rupert, dryly. Now that he knew the
worst he was perfectly calm. And he had every right to be since he had
done nothing with which to reproach himself.
"I shall be there, when this will comes to light," bullied Mallien
fiercely. "Naturally you wish to hide it----"
"There you make a mistake," interrupted the big man leisurely. "As
soon as the will is found, I shall take it to our family lawyers, and
have it looked into."
"Oh, yes, you say so now, because you can't keep the secret any
longer, thanks to Mrs. Beatson," retorted Mallien coarsely.
"I never intended to keep any secret."
"Then why didn't you tell me as soon as Leigh told you?"
"Because I had not seen the will, and so far as that goes, I have
never set eyes on it yet. It may be a myth, and it was useless for me
to speak about it until I was sure that such a document was in
existence."
"It is in existence," insisted Mallien uneasily.
"We have only the vicar's word for it."
"Oh, of course you say that."
"What else can I say? Listen to me, Mallien. Unpleasant as it is for
me to lose my property, I am quite willing to surrender it to you
without the intervention of the law, if the will proves to be legal.
If it doesn't, of course I shall keep my own."
But even this generous and reasonable speech did not appeal to the
grasping hearer. "You can do what you like," he replied doggedly; "but
if I don't get the property, I shall bring the case before a judge and
jury."
"There will be no necessity for you to do so, if the will is legal."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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