“Madam,” said Lally, her black eyes flashing, “I have not traduced you, nor lied about you.”
“You have repeated to Mrs. Wroat my unguarded remarks about her, made to you in confidence.”
“Again you are mistaken, madam,” said Lally sternly. “I have not repeated those remarks. Mrs. Wroat judged you by words she herself overheard. I have done nothing to injure you, nor is it my fault that my great-aunt has chosen to exalt me at your expense. Believe me, Mrs. Blight, if my aunt had not found me, she would not have left her money to you.”
“Your aunt?” cried the lawyer. “Seems to me you are getting along fast, young woman. Your aunt, eh? It is my opinion that you are a clever adventuress, and I deem it my duty to protect my dear aunt from your evil machinations. Put your things into that trunk. Laura, ring the hall bell for Buttons.”
Mrs. Blight complied. Buttons made his appearance.
“Take that trunk down to the street, and call a cab,” commanded Mr. Blight.
The trunk being locked with a spring catch, Buttons shouldered it and vanished down the stairs.
“Now, Miss,” said the lawyer, with vindictive triumph, “you must be off. You cannot be allowed to speak again to the infirm old lady you have persecuted. March down the stairs quietly, or I’ll call a policeman and accuse you of stealing.”
“Mr. Blight—”
“Not a word, Miss. On with your bonnet and shawl, and depart. One word to arouse Mrs. Wroat, and I’ll have you dragged off to jail.”