The Strand Magazine, Vol. 17, February 1899, No. 98.Various
General
The Strand Magazine, Vol. 17, February 1899, No. 98.
Various
English literature -- Periodicals; Short stories, English -- Periodicals
White looked about him helplessly. He missed his headpiece, the
instigator of the plot. "Well, it was like this, my lady," he began,
turning to Lady Georgina, and wriggling to gain time. "You see, his
lordship and Mr. Higginson----" he twirled his thumbs and tried to
invent something plausible.
Lady Georgina swooped. "No rigmarole!" she said, sharply. "Do you
confess you put it there or do you not--reptile?" Her vehemence startled
him.
"Yes, I confess I put it there," he said at last, blinking. "As soon as
the breath was out of Mr. Ashurst's body I put it there." He began to
whimper. "I'm a poor man with a wife and family, sir," he went on,
"though in Mr. Ashurst's time I always kep' that quiet; and his lordship
offered to pay me well for the job; and when you're paid well for a job
yourself, sir----."
Mr. Hayes waved him off with one imperious hand. "Sit down in the corner
there, man, and don't move or utter another word," he said, sternly,
"until I order you. You will be in time still for me to produce at Bow
Street."
Just at that moment, Lord Southminster swaggered back, accompanied by a
couple of unwilling policemen. "Oh, I say," he cried, bursting in and
staring around him, jubilant. "Look heah, Georgey, _are_ you going
quietly, or must I ask these coppahs to evict you?" He was wreathed in
smiles now, and had evidently been fortifying himself with brandies and
soda.
Lady Georgina rose in her wrath. "Yes, I'll go if you wish it, Bertie,"
she answered, with calm irony. "I'll leave the house as soon as you
like--for the present--till we come back again with Harold and _his_
policemen to evict you. This house is Harold's. Your game is played,
boy." She spoke slowly. "We have found the other will--we have
discovered Higginson's present address in Paris--and we know from White
how he and you arranged this little conspiracy."
She rapped out each clause in this last accusing sentence with
deliberate effect, like so many pistol-shots. Each bullet hit home. The
pea-green young man, drawing back and staring, stroked his shadowy
moustache with feeble fingers in undisguised astonishment. Then he
dropped into a chair and fixed his gaze blankly on Lady Georgina. "Well,
this is a fair knock-out," he ejaculated, fatuously disconcerted. "I
wish Higginson was heah. I really don't quite know what to do without
him. That fellah had squared it all up so neatly, don't yah know, that I
thought there couldn't be any sort of hitch in the proceedings."
[Illustration: "'WELL, THIS IS A FAIR KNOCK-OUT,' HE EJACULATED."]
"You reckoned without Lois," Lady Georgina said, calmly.
"Ah, Miss Cayley--that's true. I mean, Mrs. Tillington. Yaas, yaas, I
know, she's a doosid clevah person for a woman, now isn't she?"
It was impossible to take this flabby creature seriously, even as a
criminal. Lady Georgina's lips relaxed. "Doosid clever" she admitted,
looking at me almost tenderly.
"But not quite so clevah, don't yah know, as Higginson!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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