"Couldn't we keep it out of the newspapers?"
"I'm afraid not. Mrs. Cavendish, you see, was a very important personage. The public will be interested, not only in the extent of her fortune, but in how she has disposed of it."
"But surely, with your influence----" Once more Aliette felt hopeless.
"Even my influence"--Sir Peter leaned forward, pointing the paper-knife at her--"even my influence cannot keep 'news' back. Therefore, I'm afraid that" ("this is the moment," he thought, "the absolute and only psychological moment") "unless some accident were to happen--unless the will were, shall we say, burnt--neither my first idea, which you will remember was that we should approach your--er--former husband with a view to his taking immediate action, nor my second suggestion, that we should alter the book, could be of the slightest assistance."
There intervened a long and peculiar silence; during which, as poker-players across a poker-table, the old man and the young woman tried to fathom one another's minds.
At last the woman asked:
"Tell me, suppose this--this accident of which you have spoken were to happen, what would be the consequences?"
"The consequences to whom?"
"To"--Aliette, her thoughts racing, fumbled at the phrase--"to the person who might burn--who might be responsible for the accident."
"That would depend." Sir Peter's words started pat from under his mustache. "If the person responsible for the accident were to benefit by the destruction of the will, the consequences to that person, if discovered, would be very serious. But if that person, instead of benefiting, stood to lose twenty thousand pounds----" He broke off; adding, rather gruffly, "You'll understand that if Mrs. Cavendish had died without making a will, her son, as next of kin, would inherit the entire estate?"