"Where the--what the--you saw him?"
"In church yesterday. He's ill with consumption, dying they say. Demetrius attends him. Supposing--supposing"--her imagination made her cheeks flush--"supposing--oh, you understand."
The sluggish comprehension of the man grasped her hinted scheme suddenly, and his eyes lighted up. "Supposing he died and was buried in place of me, you mean?"
"You don't suppose I mean murder, do you?" she cried, rising to the height of her tall figure and speaking irritably.
"You would if there was money in it," said Jim, grimly.
"It would be a natural death," went on Leah, rapidly, and pacing the room to relieve the strain on her nerves. "The poor fellow can't live long. If he died, and was buried as----"
"No go," contradicted Jim, rising in his turn. "Every one about here knows of the likeness; for which," he added slowly, "there's a reason."
"So I learned yesterday from Mrs. Arthur."
Jim was indignant. "Do you mean to tell me----?"
"I mean to tell you that I gathered the truth from what she left unsaid. You don't suppose that I require words to explain things."