‘TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND POUNDS!’
It was past eleven o’clock when Dr. Mackenzie and his companion
returned from Exeter Hall; and after getting a little supper in the
dining-room together, they parted for the night, Semple making sure
that the minister went straight to his bedroom before he retired to his
own. Hardly, however, had Dr. Mackenzie been left alone, when a tap
came to his door. It was the nurse in attendance on Mr. Lindsay, who
had been sent to tell the minister that the sick man was anxious to see
him before he went to sleep.
‘I’ve got the draft of the will, Doctor,’ said Mr. Lindsay, as his
guest entered the room. ‘I thought you would maybe like to see it; and
as they want it sent back to-night, I had to send for you.’
The minister professed himself to be very willing to look over the
draft, and seating himself by the fire, he read it carefully through
twice.
‘It will be a disappointment to some of them, I’m thinking,’ said the
old man, as the other at last laid down the paper.
‘But think of the good it will do,’ rejoined the minister. ‘What better
use can we make of money, which is, after all, mere dross, than devote
it to the cause of Christ?’
‘Is the draft all right?’ asked Mr. Lindsay, after a pause.
‘Yes; it seems to be in accordance with your wishes.’
‘Just read it over to me, before it goes,’ said the old man; and the
minister did so.
‘Now, I must get it posted to-night,’ said Mr. Lindsay, when the
reading was finished.
‘I’ll post it myself,’ said Dr. Mackenzie, promptly. ‘There’s a
pillar-box at the corner. It won’t take me a minute.’
This offer was gratefully accepted. The minister let himself quietly
out of the house, leaving the street-door ajar while he went to the
pillar-box, which was only a few yards off; and when he returned he
went back to his own room, without making noise enough to wake anyone
in the house.
It had not been without some reluctance that Laura Mowbray had
consented to play the spy for James Semple. Not that she was conscious
of any humiliation in the matter--she rather enjoyed the excitement of
it--but she felt that in yielding to his wishes she had made the tie
between them stronger than was perhaps altogether prudent. In their
last interview Semple had assumed that he was her accepted lover, and
she knew that he had grounds for so doing. So long ago as the summer
when they had been together at Loch Long, she perceived that he, as
well as Alec Lindsay, was in love with her, although Alec’s passion
found vent in words while his cousin’s did not. When Semple did declare
himself, some time afterwards, she had given him much the same answer
as she had given to Alec. But lately he had renewed his pleading, and
meeting with a very weak resistance, he had assumed that he was, or
very soon would be, successful. Of late, however, he had had no time
for love-making.
Laura had produced in his mind exactly the impression she had intended.
She did not wish to accept his offer just then, but neither did she
wish to send him away. Her heart (such as it was) was with Alec; but
then she could not bring herself to marry a poor man; and Alec had
thrown away his chances of ingratiating himself with his uncle so
persistently, that she had very little hope that he would find himself
rich after his uncle’s death. Semple, she felt sure, would be the heir,
but she had no idea of pledging herself irrevocably till the event had
declared itself.
On the morning after she had paid her visit to Mr. Lindsay’s bedroom
in accordance with her lover’s directions, Miss Mowbray took good care
to be early in the breakfast-room. She anticipated that Semple would
take that opportunity of having an interview with her, and she was not
disappointed.
‘Well?’ he said eagerly, as soon as he entered the room, without
waiting to bid her good-morning, ‘did my uncle get the letter last
night?’
‘What would you give to know?’ returned the girl, with a saucy air.
A coarse expression sprang to the young man’s lips, but he had sense
enough to restrain it.
‘Don’t trifle with me,’ he said.
Laura was struck by the anxious, haggard look on his face, as well as
by the tone of his voice.
‘Why are you so anxious about that letter?’ she asked.
‘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.’
She saw it might be safer not to know too much.
‘Will you do it then?’
‘I won’t touch the desk, if you mean that,’ said Laura. ‘Mr. Lindsay
generally takes a nap about four in the afternoon. I could easily----’
At that moment Aunt Jean made her appearance, followed by a servant
with a tray, and the conference was at an end.
In the course of the day, Semple managed to take the desk out of
his uncle’s room while the old man was asleep; and he had no great
difficulty in opening it by means of a picklock, which he had borrowed.
This done, he found and burned the paper of instructions.