A Life's Secret: A Novel

by Mrs. Henry Wood

'Your mistress is dead, I suppose.'—'Just dead.'

'Well, I shall not detain Mr. Hunter many minutes,' rejoined Gwinn, pushing his way into the hall. 'I must see him.'

The servant hesitated. But his master's voice was heard. 'You can admit that person, Richard.'

The man opened the door of the front room. It was in darkness; the shutters were closed; so he turned to the door of the other, and showed the guest in. The soft perfume from the odoriferous plants in the conservatory was wafted to the senses of Gwinn of Ketterford as he entered. 'Why do you seek me here?' demanded Mr. Hunter when he appeared. 'Is it a fitting time and place?'

'A court of law might perhaps be more fit,' insolently returned the lawyer. 'Why did you not remit the money, according to promise, and so obviate the necessity of my coming?'

'Because I shall remit no more money. Not another farthing, or the value of one, shall you ever obtain of me. If I have submitted to your ruinous and swindling demands, you know why I have done it——'

'Stop!' interrupted Mr. Gwinn. 'You have had your money's worth—silence.'

Mr. Hunter was deeply agitated. 'As the breath went out of my wife's body, I thanked God that He had taken her—that she was removed from the wicked machinations of you and yours. But for the bitter wrong dealt out to me by your wicked sister Agatha, I should have mourned for her with regrets and tears. You have made my life into a curse: I purchased your silence that you should not render hers one. The fear and the thraldom are alike over.'

Mr. Gwinn laughed significantly. 'Your daughter lives.'

'She does. In saying that I will make her cognisant of this, rather than supply you with another sixpence, you may judge how firm is my determination.'