She turned the key in the lock, and came over close to where he was sitting. “What is it, Jock?”
He did not answer for a moment, and then he said very quietly: “Harry Garlett did poison his wife. He is to be arrested to-day, and we must manage to get Jean away, if it’s in any way possible, before that happens.”
She stared across into her husband’s set face, but, though utterly amazed and horror-struck, she uttered no exclamation of surprise. She simply waited to hear more.
“Well,” he said irritably, “well, Jenny, did you expect this?”
“I expect it?” she exclaimed. “I expected it as little as you did. But what makes you so certain, Jock? Is there no loophole of escape?”
And then she muttered as to herself, “It’s the child I’m thinking of. What will happen to Jean—if this is true?”
“She’ll have to go through with it,” he said grimly. And then he handed her a letter. It was marked “Private,” and ran as follows:
Dear Maclean,
I feel I owe it to our old friendship to inform you that Garlett is to be arrested to-morrow on the charge of having murdered his wife. I may add, for your own information, that our man has found five grains of arsenic, the largest amount ever given in his experience. It had actually penetrated the graveclothes inside the coffin.
I hope you won’t think it impertinent on my part to suggest that you would be wise to send your poor young niece as far away as may be. How about Iona? Should she be required to give evidence, which I hope will not be the case, she could always come back.