A Duel Part 48

"I'll tell you all about it if you'll let me in."

"You'll tell me before I let you in."

"Margaret Wallace--that girl--you know--she came this morning and told me it was there."

"I don't believe it. Why should she, of all people, come and tell you a thing like that? Tell that for a tale."

"She did; I swear she did. The money's there--I know just where--a quarter of a million at least."

"A quarter of a million?"

"At least! If I was there I'd have it in my hands inside two minutes. I'm as sure of it as I am that I'm alive. Don't be silly; let me in, and let's talk where we can be alone. I'm on the square--I swear it. I don't want anything from you; I just want your advice--that's all."

There was another pause.

"Mrs. Lamb, I've got a telephone installed in these premises.

I'm going to telephone to a friend that you're here; I'm going to ask him to step round in a few minutes. If, when he comes, you've been making trouble, there'll be trouble for you--you'll be the sorriest woman that ever lived. I give you my word; when I give you my word on a point like that you know it goes. You wait there until I'm ready."

The head was withdrawn; the window closed; the lady waited, impatiently enough. Her patience was sufficiently tried. It seemed to her that she waited an hour; she certainly did wait twenty minutes. More than once she was on the point of sounding a loud rat-a-tat on the knocker by way of a little reminder. It was only with an effort she restrained herself, being conscious that possibly Mr. Luker's decision still hung in the balance, and that it needed but little to turn the balance against her.

She had just arrived at a final conclusion that he had played her false, or, at any rate, intended to ignore her existence, when the door was opened, on the chain.

"I've telephoned to my friend; he's coming; so, if you're in an argumentative frame of mind, you'd better take my strong advice and stay outside. No argument will be allowed in here."

It seemed to Mrs. Lamb that the wary Mr. Luker was carrying his wariness almost a trifle too far. She was unable to altogether conceal that this was her feeling.

"Bless the man! I don't want to argue! I just want to explain exactly how the matter stands. When you've opened that door you'll find that I mean just what I say, neither more nor less."

"My friend, when he arrives, will see that you don't mean more; you can take my word for that. Come inside!"

Mr. Luker removed the chain; the lady entered; he led the way to a room on the ground floor at the back. It was much better furnished than the exterior of the house, and its occupant's appearance, might have led one to expect. A telephone, on its bracket against the wall, was one of the most prominent objects the room contained. Mr. Luker called her attention to its presence.

"You see? I'm not so much alone here as you might think; I'm in constant communication with my friend; and as he'll be here very shortly, perhaps you'll say what you have to say as quickly as you can."

"It'd have been said already, if you hadn't kept me cooling my heels outside while you were playing the fool in here with your telephone."

As clearly and succinctly as possible--she could keep to the point when she liked--Mrs. Lamb told her tale, exhibiting Margaret's drawings, partly by way of corroboration and partly to elucidate certain points which needed explanation.

"And you believe it?"

"Believe that the money's inside that mantelpiece? I'm as certain of it as I am that I see you."

"What makes you so sure?"

"His will was hidden in one corner of the room. All along I've felt sure that there were more hiding-places in it than one. I shouldn't be surprised if there were half a dozen. It's just the kind of room, and he's just the kind of man. As for the mantelpiece, I've been bothered all along by a feeling that there was something about it which I ought to understand, and didn't. Now I know what it is. Cuthbert Grahame's money's there as certainly as you are here. I tell you he was just the sort of curiosity--he wasn't a man when I knew him!--who might be expected to play a trick like that."

"But why should the girl come and tell you the tale when it was to her advantage to keep it dark--especially from you?"

"That's more than I can say. I know she's a white-faced little devil, and that I hate her. I lay she didn't do it out of any love for me."

"That, I think, we may take for granted--which makes the puzzle more. It looks to me as if she expects you to walk headlong into a trap which she has carefully baited."

"Curse her traps! What do I care for her traps? She can't set one which will catch me. The money's there, and the money's mine--and I'll get it."

"Then get it. It will be useful to you just now, even if there's less than a quarter of a million."

"Useful!--my G.o.d!--useful!" Stretching out her arms on either side, she drew a long breath. "But, Luker--that's the mischief!--it's in his room; the one in which he died."

"Well; you've told me that already--what of it?"

"What of it? Why!"--she laughed; there was something in the sound of her laughter which caused him to bunch himself together, as if touched by a sudden chill--"I daren't go in it."

"You daren't go in it? What do you mean? The house is your own, isn't it? What's there to be afraid of? Who's to keep you out?"

"That's it!--I don't know! I don't know! Luker, there's something come over me lately; I didn't used to be troubled with nerves."

"You didn't."

"I never was afraid of anything--or any one."

"You weren't; you've always had the devil's own courage since you were a girl."

"There's been nothing I daren't do."

"It would have been better for you, perhaps, if there had been something; there's such a thing as daring to do too much."

"You think so? Perhaps that's it; perhaps I have dared to do too much."

"As to that you know better than I do; I'm not your father confessor, nor wish to be. The Lord forbid!"

"I don't know how it is, but, lately, I've gone all to pieces.

I'm afraid of all sorts of things. When that girl came this morning I was afraid of her; she frightened me out of my senses.

I thought she was a ghost; I couldn't have moved or spoken to save my life; I listened to her like a stuck pig. Luker, things have upset me more than I thought anything could have done.

I'm--I'm all a bundle of nerves."

"It's that stuff you've been drinking."

"Stuff? What stuff?"

"When I was at your place yesterday I saw a decanter lying on the table; some of the contents had been spilled. I dipped my finger into the stuff and tasted it. It was ether. When women of your temperament take to drinking ether, that's an end of them."

"But I've got to drink it!--I've got to! I never touch it unless I'm forced! Luker, if I didn't, sometimes, I should go stark, staring mad."

"Then you'll go stark, staring mad. Ether's a royal road to madness for such as you. Better stick to gin."

"Gin!--gin's no good; a barrelful would be no good when I'm like that."

"I see--that's the point you've got to." He was eyeing her intently. "Is there any particular reason why you should be afraid of going into the room where that man died?"

She became instantly conscious of the keenness of his scrutiny, perceiving that in it there was a new quality. Her manner changed.