“Well, as long as I have known Aunt Rebecca—anyhow, ever since Uncle Archibald died—she has been restless and flying about.”
“Not as she is now. And then she only had her maid—”
“Oh, yes, Randall; she’s faithful as they make ’em. What does she say about Miss Smith?”
“Bertie, she’s won over Randall. Randall swears by her. Oh, she’s deep!”
“Seems to be. But—excuse me—what’s your game, Millicent? How do you mean to protect our aged kinswoman and, incidentally, of course, the Winter fortune?”
“I shall watch, Bertie; I shall be on my guard every waking hour. That deluded old woman is in more danger, perhaps, than you dream.”
“As how?”
“Miss Smith”—her voice sank portentously—“was a trained nurse.”
“What harm does that do—unless you think she would know too much about poisons?” The colonel laughed.
“It’s no laughing matter, Bertie. Rebecca is so rich and this other woman is so poor, and, in my estimation, so ambitious. I make no insinuations, I only say she needs watching.”