"Or as he turned to close it," retorted Busham, smartly.
Mrs. Moxton held her handkerchief to her mouth and shivered, but with her eyes on Busham's mean face nodded to him to continue. The man, seeing that she had a vague terror of his threats, did so with a chuckle. "Since you know that I was at Dukesfield on that night," he went on, "I admit it. Why should I not? I am innocent and can prove as much. So Monsieur Zirknitz saw me? H'm! I know that scamp; no one better. He called here one day with my cousin to extort money on the plea that I had undue influence over my uncle, but I soon turned the rascals out, I can tell you. I am a dangerous man when roused." Mr. Busham chuckled, and repeated the phrase with relish. "A dangerous man."
"Oh, I daresay," said Mrs. Moxton, with a contemptuous air, which accorded ill with her pale face and uneasy manner. "Dangerous as a fox, or a stoat, or a weasel may be. You belong to the vermin tribe, you do."
"Go on with your story, man," directed Ellis, curtly.
"Civil, civil, oh, very civil," snapped Busham, "but I'll teach you both manners before I'm done with you. At Dukesfield was I? Yes, I was. He! he! do you know what I saw there, Mrs. Moxton? You don't. Well then, I'll tell you, and take this for my fee."
"The will!" gasped Mrs. Moxton, as Busham clawed the document. "I thought that was what you wanted."
"Leave that will alone," growled Ellis, scowling.
Mr. Busham immediately pushed the paper away. "It will come back to me soon," said he, nodding. "Oh, I know, I know."
"What the deuce do you know? Speak out, can't you?"
"Softly, Dr. Ellis, softly, all in good time. Maybe you won't be so pleased with my knowledge when you are possessed of it."