“My sister and the Marston Rise affair!” Beatrice exclaimed, incredulously.
Then a sudden light broke in upon her. She stopped short and clutched at his hand.
“You don't mean that it was Elizabeth who was going to find you the money?” she cried.
“I do,” he answered. “She offered it of her own accord. I do not know why I talked to her of my own affairs, but she led me on to speak of them. Your sister is a wonderful person,” he continued, dropping his voice. “I don't know why, but she made me talk as no one else has ever made me talk before. I simply had to tell her things. Then, when I had finished, she showed me her bankbooks and suggested that she should invest some of her money in the Rise.”
“But do you mean to tell me,” Beatrice persisted, “that it is her money upon which you are relying for this purchase?”
Tavernake nodded.
“You see,” he explained, “Mr. Dowling dropped upon us before I was prepared. As soon as he found out, he went to the owners of the estate and made them a bid for it. The consequence was that they shortened my option and gave me very little chance indeed to find the money. When your sister offered it, it certainly seemed a wonderful stroke of fortune. I could give her eight or ten per cent, whereas she would only get four anywhere else, and I should make a profit for myself of over ten thousand pounds, which I cannot do unless I find the money to buy the estate.”
“But you mustn't touch that money, you mustn't have anything to do with it!” Beatrice exclaimed, walking very fast and looking straight ahead. “You don't understand. How should you?”
“Do you mean that the money was stolen?” Tavernake asked, after a moment's pause.
“No, not stolen,” Beatrice replied, “but it comes—oh! I can't tell you, only Elizabeth has no right to it. My own sister! It is all too awful!”