A little consideration, however, blunted the edge of this fear. If that letter of old Maynard’s had not (as she felt certain) been opened out by other hands than hers, no one would ever dream of hunting for Philip Debenham’s last will and testament amongst the wilderness of books in the library at Ladywell, which house had never been his home. If anyone believed that a second will had been made, they must also believe that it had been destroyed before now. It was not likely to come to light eighteen years after the death of the testator.
Whatever Maud and Mrs. Lorraine believed that she (Celia Belassis) came to search for, they at least would never guess that it was for her brother-in-law’s will. Of that fear she might safely rid her mind.
But she could not rid her mind of others. She knew that Roma Meredith came often now to read in the great library, and any day her unconscious choice might light upon the volume in which the precious paper lay hidden. Philip was himself something of a reader and a lover of books, and she had already heard some talk about rearranging the library and classifying the works.
Such thoughts as these made her blood run cold, and very earnestly and intently did she ponder over the matter, trying to see some way to rid herself of the haunting dread that oppressed her. She knew Maud’s trust-money was all speculated away, and if anything occurred which should oblige her husband to deliver up the lump sum, it would be impossible to avoid a fiasco that must bring the name of Belassis into open contempt.
What Mrs. Belassis would like best to do, would be to carry war into the enemy’s quarters, if only she saw her way to doing it. She had not at all given up her idea that this nephew of hers was playing a double part, and acting unfairly towards the friend to whom he owed so much. Her own eyes had convinced her that he was using the money of his friend as freely as his own; and if he could do that, of what was he not capable?
She meant to keep her eyes and ears open, and glean all the information possible upon this subject. But it was not easy for her to make discoveries now, because she had declared open war, as it were, with those at Ladywell, and was herself looked upon as little better than a spy.
A spy!
Mrs. Belassis repeated the word once or twice to herself, and an unpleasant smile stole gradually into her eyes.
Yes, there was certainly something attractive in the idea. Would it be possible to introduce a spy into that house, who would keep watch upon what was going on, listen and report upon all the talk of the servants’-hall, and when it was possible, contrive to hear what was said upstairs as well as down? Mrs. Belassis had a shrewd notion that servants generally contrived to find out the truth as to what went on in a house, much more quickly than they were supposed to do; and she believed that if her nephew was likely to get himself into trouble, he would probably tell something of his difficulties to his sister or his aunt, and then the secret would ooze out below-stairs, and might be easily made known to her. She thought she could perhaps set some rumour afloat herself, which might startle him from his high and mighty ease, and induce him to make some admissions to his two adoring relatives.
And again, if Mrs. Belassis could but introduce into that house some creature of her own, great things might be accomplished. The library books might be gradually and systematically examined; and if the underling failed in the quest, surely she could admit her employer at some unlikely hour, and with time and patience Mrs. Belassis felt perfectly certain that she should be able to find Philip Debenham’s carefully hidden will.