The office was as dingy and dirty as ever. The lean clerks still scribbled interminable folios, and strained their eyes in the uncertain light. From the inner room came the rasping cough of Busham, which showed that he was alive and plotting. Ellis sent in his card, which was received by the lawyer with anything but pleasure. However, he did not think it wise to betray any fear of his visitor, so gave orders that he was to be admitted at once. More than that, he threw into his greeting as much cordiality as was possible with one of his detestable nature.
"I am glad to see you, doctor," said he, pointing to one of the two chairs. "That seems strange, does it not? We had a tiff last time we met here, eh? Quite so. But I never bear malice, not I. How is Mrs. Moxton?"
"The true Mrs. Moxton is quite well."
Busham's naturally pale face became of a greenish hue. "What do you mean with your 'true Mrs. Moxton?'" he demanded, narrowing his eyes until they looked like those of a cat.
"What I say, and what you know. Janet Gordon, to fight her sister's battles, took that sister's place."
"You are well informed," sneered Busham. "On whose authority?"
"I have the best authority. Miss Gordon told me herself."
"How dare you say that I knew of this plot!" cried the lawyer, savagely. "Ridiculous! I know nothing about the sisters."
"That is a lie!" replied Ellis, coolly. "You know everything about them. For months you have been watching for an opportunity to get them into your toils."
"Who says this?"