"Oh, he was murdered, then?"
"Didn't you know," said Mrs. Belswin, haughtily, "when you spoke to me like that?"
"I know nothing," returned Silas, coolly. "I only spoke because I know if you had met Pethram in one of your fiendish tempers you would have put a knife in him."
Mrs. Belswin saw that she had raised a suspicion in the mind of Silas, so was now careful as to what she said.
"You're talking at random. Pethram is dead, and some one shot him; I don't know who. You can see all about it in the papers."
Silas made no answer, as he was thinking. Owing to Mrs. Belswin's unsuspicious nature he had learned a very important fact, which might possibly lead to his circumventing her demands for money. So he made up his mind at once how to act, and acted.
"See here," he said, good-humouredly, pulling out his cheque-book; "I'll do what I can for you. Tell my wife or not, if you like; but now, if five hundred dollars are of any use, I'll give you that lot straight off."
"Five hundred dollars," said Mrs. Belswin, coolly--"one hundred pounds. Well, that will do in the meantime; but I'm to have the rest next week, or I'll make things hot for you, Silas."
The American had his own opinion on the subject, but, with his habitual craft, said nothing. Filling up the cheque, he gave it to Mrs. Belswin, who took it without a word of thanks, and put it in her purse.
"I've made it payable to Mrs. Belswin," said Oates. "That's your last name, I guess?"