The Nether Millstone

by Fred M. White

Something like a groan came from Mayfield's lips, but his busy brain was working all the time. He saw where the difficulty lay. With Ralph out of the way he could, and would, crush Speed like a fly. He would expose the impostor without mercy, and then things would revert to the old order as they were before Ralph Darnley appeared.

An accident to Ralph Darnley! The real owner of the estate out of the way! Properly manipulated, this might mean the recovery of that money from Darnley's solicitors. It would at any rate mean the return of George Dashwood to his own once more, the putting of the screw on Mary. The idea whirled in Mayfield's mind like a dazzling wheel. He did not dare to look at Speed; he was afraid of the tale his eyes might tell.

"I must have time to think this over," he said. "Meanwhile, you had better return to Dashwood as if nothing out of the common had happened. I'll come down and dine with you tomorrow night and stay till the morning. Then get hold of this so-called Darnley, and see if you can pump any further information out of him. If you could possibly induce him to dine with us so much the better. Only, if I were you, I should not say that you had asked me. I've got a scheme working in my mind, but it is not quite safe as yet, so we need not discuss it."

"All right," Speed said moodily, "you are a much cleverer chap than I am, and I shall rely on you to find some way out of the trouble. When I think what is slipping through my fingers like this, I could commit murder."

Speed spoke vehemently, with a voice that rasped hoarsely. Mayfield started, to find that his thoughts and Speed's were running in such parallel grooves. He made a gesture of impatience, indicating that he should like to be alone. Speed lounged out, lunched freely, and, with the courage that is born of wine, took his way to the station with a resolve to return to Dashwood without delay.

Everything seemed just the same there; there was no suggestion that anybody knew of the deceit which had been practised on the old house. Even Slight appeared to be more respectful than usual, but this was all prearranged; Ralph had travelled down by the same train as Speed, and Slight was fresh from an interview with the man whom he called his master. It was after tea that Speed went over to the dower house. His heart was beating a little faster than usual; he felt his colour come and go as Lady Dashwood came into the garden with a basket and a pair of scissors in her hand. Her greeting was cold and formal as usual; but Speed could not detect any change in her manner.

"Let me hold the basket for you," he said graciously. "You are going to get some roses?"

"Yes," Lady Dashwood replied, "I prefer to arrange my own flowers. And I have a young friend coming to stay with me tomorrow, an acquaintance of Mary's."

So far all was well, for the speaker did not refer to Mary as Miss Dashwood; it was evident to Speed that he was still regarded as one of the family. He wondered if Lady Dashwood had any idea as to his real identity.

"I saw Mary today," he said. "She had been lodging with a woman I know, a Mrs. Speed. She has been very unfortunate of late, and----"