"Not wages, sir; there ain't no wages doo to me,—which you paid me a quarter in advance last Saturday was a week, and took a receipt, sir, for the amount. But I have done my dooty, sir, and had but little sleep and rest, which my 'ealth ain't what it was when I answered your advertisement, requirin' a respectable motherly person, to take charge of a invalid lady, not objectin' to the country—which I freely tell you, sir, if I'd known that the country was a rheumatic old place like this, with rats enough to scare away a regyment of soldiers, I would not have undertook the situation; so any present as you might think sootable, considerin' all things, and——"
"That will do," said Paul Marchmont, taking a handful of loose money from his waistcoat pocket; "I suppose a ten-pound note would satisfy you?"
"Indeed it would, sir, and very liberal of you too——"
"Very well. I've got a five-pound note here, and five sovereigns. The best thing you can do is to get back to London at once; there's a train leaves Milsome Station at eleven o'clock—Milsome's not more than a mile and a half from here. You can get your things together; there's a boy about the place who will carry them for you, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir; there's a boy by the name of William."
"He can go with you, then; and if you look sharp, you can catch the eleven-o'clock train."
"Yes, sir; and thank you kindly, sir."
"I don't want any thanks. See that you don't miss the train; that's all you have to take care of."
Mr. Marchmont went out into the garden again. He had done something, at any rate; he had arranged for getting this woman out of the way.
If—if by any remote chance there might be yet a possibility of keeping the secret of Mary's existence, here was one witness already got rid of.