A Duel Part 28

"I know I can't, and there's something else that I can't prove."

"What's that?"

"I believe she murdered him."

"David!"

"She was equal to it; and I'm beginning to see more clearly how she brought herself to the sticking point. The day before his death Margaret Wallace called----"

"Margaret Wallace? you don't say!"

"She told me so herself this afternoon. She was refused admission as she supposed by Nannie Foreshaw. I happen to know that Nannie couldn't have got out of bed and gone downstairs to save her life--that woman had taken care of that. Before I came to you I wrote to Nannie asking if she did, to make sure. I believe that woman played at being Nannie, imitating her voice.

She may have known Margaret's story, probably Grahame had told her, and was aware that if she returned and saw him her reign was at an end. So she precipitated matters. She juggled that will into existence, and, directly she had done so, killed him."

"It's a weighty charge you're making, David; be careful how you make it."

"Do you think I don't know that it's a weighty charge? I'm not making it. I'm only telling you what's in my mind, as between friends. I'll not breathe a word of the matter to any one but you till I can bring it into court, and prove it. At present, in your lawyer's sense, I've not proof enough to cover a pin's point. But, Andrew, though the mills of G.o.d grind slowly, they grind surely, and exceeding fine. Maybe one day G.o.d's finger will press her in between the stones, then you'll know that the conviction which is implanted in my breast is of the nature of the prophetic vision. G.o.d has shown me, though I cannot tell you how."

There was silence. The doctor, still standing, bent over the table on which stood the coffee and liqueurs, pointing with one skinny finger upwards. He continued in that att.i.tude for a perceptible period after he had ceased to speak. Then Mr.

McTavish's voice broke the spell which he seemed to have cast upon the air.

"David, you use big words. I don't--it's not my way. But confidence begets confidence. I'll tell you something in return--and that without insulting you by asking if you can keep a still tongue--because I know you can."

The doctor returned to a more normal att.i.tude, seeming to do so with an effort, as if he were shaking something from him. He spoke in his ordinary tones.

"Let me light another cigar before you begin. This sort of talk's disquieting, especially after such a dinner as I've had.

I think a tonic might not be amiss." He sipped his liqueur.

"Andrew, this is not bad brandy."

"A hogshead wouldn't hurt you."

"Wouldn't it? Is it your custom to drink brandy by the hogshead?

I thought you didn't use big words."

"It's a figure of speech, David--a figure of speech. If you have that cigar properly lighted, and will sit down like a decent creature, I'll have my say--that is, if you have not had enough of the matter under discussion."

"You're not more ready to talk than I am to listen. Now, Andrew, I'm at your service."

"Well, you suspect this lady of something more than misdemeanour. I may tell you that I doubt if she would have done what she did do--if she did it!--if she had known what she knows now."

"You speak in parables."

"I'll be plain enough. Did you know anything about Cuthbert Grahame's affairs?--his financial affairs, I mean."

"Something."

"Had you any idea how much he was worth?"

"He told me himself, not once but frequently, that he was worth nearer three hundred thousand pounds than two hundred thousand.

He said, moreover, that his investments brought him in an average interest of over ten per cent. He had made several lucky hits."

"That's what he told us; it seems that that's what he told her.

Did you see on what amount probate duty was paid?"

"Not I; I took no interest in the matter then. I was too disgusted with myself and everything. My one desire was to get the whole business out of my head; the trouble is that I haven't been able to do it."

"Under forty thousand pounds; and I may tell you that it was well under forty thousand pounds."

"What's become of the rest?"

"That's the mystery which we should like to solve--which she especially would like to solve; and what she's subjected us to in her efforts to arrive at a solution no language at my command is adequate to describe. She's a remarkable woman--a very remarkable woman. Because she has long since pa.s.sed the limits of our endurance is one reason why I am rounding on her to you.

It is not often that I am conscious of such a yearning, but we have arrived at a position in which I should actually like to have your advice. That's why I asked you here tonight."

"Then it wasn't just for old friends.h.i.+p's sake."

The doctor glowered from the recesses of the huge chair, expelling the smoke of his cigar from his lips and nostrils. Mr.

McTavish laughed.

"Well--in a measure. Did you ever think he was romancing when he talked about his moneys?"

"I did not--and I don't. He was in earnest. I never knew him tell a lie when he was in earnest. I'd match his veracity against my own."

"Then it's queer--it's queer. At the time of his death we held securities for him representing some ten thousand pounds lent on mortgage; the bankers held about as much more. His widow turned into cash everything that there was to turn, with the exception of the house, which she will neither sell nor let."

"I know. It's going to rack and ruin; they say no one's set foot in it since the day he was buried."

"I daresay--it's one of her notions--she'll let no one even talk of it; it's her bogey. Altogether she's had scarcely thirty thousand pounds."

"It's in the house."

"Not it. It's been thoroughly searched by competent hands; she herself has overhauled it more than once."

"The money must be somewhere; I'm convinced he had it."

"Have you any notion where it is? Can you give me any sort of clue as to its possible whereabouts?"

"Not I. I know no more about it than--this cigar. Is it likely?

I wasn't his man of business--you were."

"She says we have it."

"No!"

"Yes. She says we have it, or that we know where it is, and are joined in a conspiracy to keep it out of her possession. The way she's talked--and treated us! David, she's a remarkable woman."

"She is that. Don't I know it?--to my cost!"

"We've had to change the lock on our office door. She let herself into it with a pa.s.s-key--my own, I fear, for I lost it, though I don't know how; I've never seen it since. She ransacked everything the place contained. Got into the safe. By some extraordinary mischance, in which it is quite possible she had a hand, that night it wasn't locked. She went right through it.

She saw a good deal we had rather she hadn't seen, but she saw nothing of Grahame's money."