“I did not expect to be called on for so large a sum,” Mrs. Dinneford said at length, in a husky voice, taking out her pocket-book as she spoke. “I have only a hundred dollars with me. Give her that, and put her off until to-morrow.”
“I will do the best I can with her,” replied Mrs. Bray, reaching out her hand for the money, “but I think it will be safer for you to let me have the balance to-day. She will, most likely, take it into her head that I have received the whole sum from you, and think I am trying to cheat her. In that case she will be as good as her word, and come down on you.”
“Mrs. Bray!” exclaimed Mrs. Dinneford, suspicion blazing from her eyes. “Mrs. Bray!”—and she turned upon her and caught her by the arms with a fierce grip—“as I live, you are deceiving me. There is no woman but yourself. You are the vampire!”
She held the unresisting little woman in her vigorous grasp for some moments, gazing at her in stern and angry accusation.
Mrs. Bray stood very quit and with scarcely a change of countenance until this outburst of passion had subsided. She was still holding the money she had taken from Mrs. Dinneford. As the latter released her she extended her hand, saying, in a low resolute voice, in which not the faintest thrill of anger could be detected,
“Take your money.” She waited for a moment, and then let the little roll of bank-bills fall at Mrs. Dinneford's feet and turned away.
Mrs. Dinneford had made a mistake, and she saw it—saw that she was now more than ever in the power of this woman, whether she was true or false. If false, more fatally in her power.
At this dead-lock in the interview between these women there came a diversion. The sound of feet was heard on the stairs, then a hurrying along the narrow passage; a hand was on the door, but the key had been prudently turned on the inside.
With a quick motion, Mrs. Bray waved her hand toward the adjoining chamber. Mrs. Dinneford did not hesitate, but glided in noiselessly, shutting and locking the door behind her.
“Pinky Swett!” exclaimed Mrs. Bray, in a low voice, putting her finger to her lips, as she admitted her visitor, at the same time giving a warning glance toward the other room. Eyeing her from head to foot, she added, “Well, you are an object!”