“I am not wrong. Your husband promised to pay a certain sum of money on the death of Piers Pelham. It is always considered a shady thing to do, and I cannot imagine how a man like Dick could have been guilty of such an indiscretion. It makes at the present moment a handle for talk. I don’t like it, I must say so frankly.”
Barbara was silent. Her face had turned very pale.
“The story as it reached my ears was something as follows,” continued Mrs. Evershed. “You remember how kind we thought Dr. Tarbot when he lent me that ten thousand pounds!”
“Certainly, mother, and he was very kind. I don’t like him for most things, but I always did think he was generous about that.”
“It seems, Barbara, that he was not quite so generous as we imagined, for Dick—poor fellow!—was implicated in the matter too. Dr. Tarbot required some security for his money. I had none to give him, and the security he claimed was that Dick should pay him as soon as he came in for the property.”
“For what property?”
“Barbara, my dear, how silly you are! The Pelham property.”
“Are you sure you are right?”
“Positive. You can ask your husband yourself.”
“When did this happen?” asked the girl. She was trembling visibly.