CHAPTER XXVI
THE BITER BIT
Mrs. Carshaw focused him again through her gold-rimmed eye-glasses. “Crazy?” she questioned calmly. “Not a bit of it—merely an old woman bargaining for her son. Rex would not have done it. After thrashing you he would have left you to the law, and, were the law to step in, you would surely be ruined. I, on the other hand, do not scruple to compound a felony—that is what my lawyers call it. My extravagance and carelessness have contributed to encumber Rex’s estates with a heavy mortgage. If I provide his wife with a dowry which pays off the mortgage and leaves her a nice sum as pin-money, I shall have done well.”
“Half a million! I—I repudiate your statements. Even if I did not, I have no such sum at command.”
“Yes, you have, or will have, which is the same thing. Shall I give you details of the Costa Rica cotton concession, arranged between you, and Jacob, and Helen Tower? They’re here. As for repudiation, perhaps I have hurried matters. Permit me to go through my story at some length, quoting chapter and verse.”
She spread open her papers again, after having folded them.
“Stop this wretched farce,” he almost screamed, for her coolness broke up his never too powerful nervous system. “If—I agree—what guarantee is there—”
“Ah! now you’re talking reasonably. I can ensure the acceptance of my terms. First, where is Winifred?”
He hesitated. Here was the very verge of the gulf. Any admission implied the truth of Mrs. Carshaw’s words. She did not help him. He must take the plunge without any further impulsion. But the Senator’s nerve was broken. They both knew it.
“At Gateway House, East Orange,” he said sullenly. “I must tell you that my—my brother is a dare-devil. Better leave me to——”