“Marry at once. And my daughter—beware of her. A bad woman. I saved it from her clutches. It’s there.” He pointed to the account-books. “If I hadn’t taken care of it for her, she would have squandered every penny—can’t keep it from her any longer. Plenty for you and Dick. 318 You’ll take care of it—you’ll take care of it? You won’t spend it?” he whined, with sudden excitement.
Dora passed her hand over his hair, and soothed him. He moaned like a fretful child, then recovered his energies with surprising suddenness. He seized the little black account-book with the silver lock.
“It’s all here,” he cried, holding up the volume with palsied hand. “It runs into millions—millions!”
The doctor shook his head at Dora, as much as to say, “Take no notice; he is wandering.”
Trimmer now interrupted, entering the room abruptly.
“Mrs. Swinton, sir, wishes to see you at once, on urgent business,” he announced.
“Send her away!” cried the old man, throwing out his arm, and hurling the book from him so that it slid along the polished floor. He made one last supreme effort, and dragged himself up.
“Send her away,” he screamed. “Liar!—Cheat!—Forger!—Thief! She sha’n’t have my money—she sha’n’t—”
The words rattled in his throat, and he fell forward into Dora’s arms. She laid him back gently, and, after a few labored moments, he breathed his last.
The daughter, unable to brook delay, and furious 319 at Trimmer’s insolent opposition to her will, entered the room at this moment.