"But what could anyone want with the will, George?"
"Ah! that's more than I can tell you. There's nothing in the will itself to help us there, although Dundas let me read the original draft: the lawyer brought it down to show him. You see, Barton," here the doctor shook his head and looked exceeding wise, "Barton was a queer customer, and what's more, he knew all manner of other customers a good deal more queer even than himself. Those journeys of his to London brought him into contact with a heap of rascality. I shouldn't be surprised if some of his slum friends had polished him off. But, as I say, whoever he is, the assassin can never produce the will. It is gone, Amelia, and you can take my word for it, it will never turn up again. Dundas will remain in possession of the Manor House for his time. So Hilda will be perfectly safe in marrying him."
"But Hilda says he is in love with Miss Crane!"
"Stuff and nonsense. Don't I tell you she's gone away? Besides, Mrs. Darrow'll soon stop anything in that direction. She's only got to tell Dundas a little of what she knows about this precious Miriam creature."
Mrs. Marsh was alive with curiosity.
"Oh, George, what does she know?"
"Can't say; but I gather it's something by no means to Miss Crane's credit. More than that I couldn't get out of her. But I can tell you that if Dundas shapes that way, Mrs. Darrow will make him open his eyes pretty wide, though I don't believe myself Dundas even knows where the woman is. She seems to have vanished like a drop of water in the ocean of London. Take my word for it, he'll stay here, my dear, and helped by Mrs. Darrow our little girl will before long be occupying her proper place at the Manor House."
"And Gerald?"
"I'll settle him. He's coming here to see me this morning. I sent for him directly I heard of this affair. It's got to be cut root and branch, Amelia, for I tell you what it is, if we don't get money soon from somewhere, the bailiffs'll be in the house; so now you know!"
Indeed, poor Mrs. Marsh had cause to know; she had already quite a bowing acquaintance with the shabby personality of the man in possession. With terror in her heart at the mention of him, she hurried upstairs to her daughter, whilst the doctor, in his character of Roman father, remained behind. The dining-room was not only untidy, but peculiarly shabby, and for that reason he had decided that it was especially well adapted for his interview with Gerald. Surrounded thus by the undeniable evidences of his poverty, he hoped the better to drive his very trenchant remarks well home. Indeed, he was anticipating his lecture with no little pleasure, for if there was one thing upon which Doctor Marsh prided himself more than another, it was his oratorical powers, and the present he judged an admirable opportunity for exhibiting them.