“Dinna tell all the neighbours about it,” Rachel said quietly. “I’m responsible. Do what ye like wi’ me. But mind ye broke your part o’ the bargain by selling some o’ the shares secretly—”
“You fool, that was no legal bargain! But the law will recognize your brother’s receipt for—”
“Gang to the law! . . . Man, I can fancy ye sweating at the sight o’ a policeman!”
He looked death at her then, yet he must still use guile rather than force. Suddenly he spoke.
“Look here! I’ll make terms with you. I’ll give you a—a third.”
“I’ll keep what I’ve got—for Kitty. So that’s the end, and ye can just get out o’ this and leave me to give John his breakfast.”
With a snarl he sprang, thrust her aside, and reached the side of Corrie’s armchair; Corrie leapt, sank back and became rigid, the muzzle of a revolver against his temple.
“Get me the Zeniths!”
Rachel’s countenance was grey. At last she wet her lips, and said almost inaudibly—
“I’ll fetch them.” She turned to go.