‘Let me put it another way. Suppose we come to an agreement. It is highly probable that where the money is, a will is concealed. Now, it is very certain that this will is made in Mrs Seaton’s favour. If we make an arrangement to divide the spoil, and that turns out to be so, what a good thing it will be for you! On the other hand, if there is no will, you still have a handsome sum of money, which without our aid you can never enjoy; and do not mistake me when I say that aid will never be accorded without some benefit to the parties I have the honour to represent.’
‘And suppose I refuse?’
‘So much the worse for you. Then we have another course open, and one I decidedly advocate. We will at our own risk recover the money, trusting to our good fortune to find the will. If not, we will throw the money in Chancery, and fight you for it on the ground of undue influence and fraud.’
‘Fraud, sir! What do you mean?’ exclaimed the lady, trembling with indignation and hatred.
Mr Slimm approached her more closely, and looking sternly into her eyes, said: ‘Mark me, madam!—the Seatons are not unfriended. I am by no means a poor man myself, and I will not leave a stone unturned to unravel this mystery. Do you think I am fool enough to believe that my old friend hid his money away in this strange manner unless he had some fear? and if I mistake not, you are the cause of that fear. Had he intended his wealth for you, he would have left it openly. Nothing shall be left undone to fathom the matter; and if necessary’—here he lowered his voice to an impressive whisper—‘the body shall be exhumed. Do you understand, madam?—exhumed?’
The pallor on the woman’s face deepened to a ghastly ashen gray. ‘What would you have me do?’ she exclaimed faintly.
‘Come to our terms, and all will be well,’ Slimm said, pursuing the advantage he had gained; ‘otherwise’—here he paused—‘however, we will say nothing about that. What I propose is this: that an agreement be drawn up and entered into upon the terms, that in case no will is found with the money, the property is divided; and if a will is found leaving the property to Mrs Seaton, you take five thousand pounds. That is my final offer.’
‘I—I consent,’ she faltered humbly, at the same time longing, in her passionate madness, to do her antagonist some deadly mischief, as he stood before her so calmly triumphant.
‘Very good,’ he said quietly—‘very good. Then I presume our intercourse is at an end. You will be good enough to be at Mr Carver’s office in Bedford Row at three o’clock to-morrow afternoon.’
‘One moment. Are you in the secret?’