'It was a bond, not, indeed, drawn up in writing, between us, because I relied on your honour.'
'My dear Phil, I gave no definite promise, but I had to swear before the man at the Probate Court that I would administer faithfully and justly according to law, and the law was plain. Not a word in it about Cusworths. I am in conscience bound to stand by my oath. I cannot forswear myself. If there is one thing in the world I pride myself on, it is my strict conscientiousness.'
'The cow that lows loudest yields least milk,' muttered Philip. He was greatly incensed. 'Aunt,' he said angrily, 'this is a quibble unworthy of you. A perfectly clear understanding was come to between us, by the terms of which you were to go halves with me in raising four or five thousand pounds to fund, or otherwise dispose of for the benefit of Miss Cusworth.'
'Four or five thousand fiddlesticks!'
'If I had opposed you,' said Philip grimly, 'some awkward questions might have been asked relative to the cancelled will.'
'What questions?' asked Mrs. Sidebottom, looking him straight in the face with defiance.
'As to how that will came to have the signature torn off.'
'They were perfectly welcome to ask that question, but I defy you to find anyone who could answer it.'
She was right, and Philip knew it. Whatever his suspicions might be, he was without a grain of evidence to substantiate an accusation against anyone. Moreover, much as he mistrusted his aunt, he could not bring himself to believe her capable of committing so daring and wicked an act.
'I wish that the old witch-drowning days were back,' said Mrs. Sidebottom. 'It is clear to me that Salome has been exercising her fascinations upon you. Oh, that she could be pitched into a pool—that one of scalding water, swarming with gold-fish, would suit admirably, because of the colour of her hair. Then sink or swim would be all one—sink for innocence, swim for guilt—clear of her anyway.'