"Are you quite sure that Rebb has money?"
Mrs. Crosbie started to her feet, and crossing the room gripped the young man by his arm. Her face was perfectly pale, and her voice sounded uncommonly hoarse. "What do you mean?"
"I don't mean anything," said Gerald, astonished by her emotion. "Rebb is no doubt as wealthy as King Solomon. I only meant that you should make sure of the settlement. As your friend, I could say nothing else."
But Mrs. Crosbie was not satisfied. "You have heard no rumor to the effect that Major Rebb is poor, or is likely to lose his money?"
"No! no! no!" said Haskins in perfect good faith, "do sit down and compose yourself. If anything were wrong in that way I should speak out."
He could say nothing else, as, of course, his idea regarding a possible will, and money having been taken from Mavis, was mere theory. Mrs. Crosbie looked at him piercingly, after which scrutiny she returned to her seat. Apparently she counted upon this marriage releasing her from terrible trouble, and dreaded lest it should fall through. "I wish you would not frighten me," she said querulously, "my nerves are not strong. Mother and I are going away to Bognor next week for the change. We both need one very badly. Well," she selected another cigarette and became more her bright self, which he knew so well, "so you wish me to help you?"
"Yes. And I wish you to keep what I say to yourself. Promise."
She looked at him hard. "You are very mysterious."
"I am very much in earnest," he rejoined dryly.
Mrs. Crosbie shuffled. "I can't promise until I know what you are going to say," she observed irritably. Her nerves, as she had said, were certainly very bad.