"It appears, to a man up a tree, that we are getting very little out of this game that we have played. Do you propose to let Winthrop's pair beat your full hand? It strikes me that you are losing your cunning with a vengeance. Four weeks in that beastly hole in New Orleans; a lot of sticky black garments clinging about one for the same length of time, and making life a nightmare; a funeral to attend, and tears until one could float a ship in them; acting a part from morning until night, and even through the night, for what? The really good Samaritan work of getting the little mulatto engaged and robbing us of eight thousand a year, not to speak of the advantage of handling her money, and so affording an abode 'fitted to her station in life,' as the idiotic lawyers say. Rats! It isn't my line, I confess. What are you going to do?"
Mrs. Chalmers pathetically fondled the ears of her ever-present dog.
"How should I know?" she answered, meekly. "I thought we were doing the safest thing possible when we were keeping Leith Pierrepont away from her. It never occurred to me that it could be possible that she would fall in love with Olney Winthrop, though I knew he was head over ears in love with her. I told you she was dangerous when we brought her here, though you would not have it."
"What were we to do with her, pray? A school wasn't to be thought of at her age, and an asylum wasn't possible, worse luck! But something must be done. We can't commit highway robbery and deliberately pilfer her estate. I confess it wouldn't go greatly against my conscience, for I can see no earthly reason why she should have all and I nothing. But there is that confounded hole Sing Sing to consider. Look here, the blood in your veins has grown to milk and water recently. I wonder if you would have the nerve to carry out an idea that has struck me?"
"What is it?"
Jessica threw away her cigarette and lighted a fresh one before replying. When she spoke again, her voice had assumed a lower tone.
"You will agree, of course, that she is of a wildly, sentimental nature, like all Mexican and half-breed Indians. She has proven that by falling in love with Olney's white face. I don't think she cares the snap of her finger for him, except that she pities him and—wants to be loved. It is such a fine, beautiful thing. Pouf! Well, it is my belief that if we could get him out of the way for awhile, she would discover that fact, and jilt him."
"But how are we to get him out of the way?" inquired Mrs. Chalmers, actually putting the dog aside once and lifting her suspiciously golden head interestedly.
"I haven't quite prepared that side of my subject," answered Jessica, calmly. "There has not been time to go into it in detail as yet. The announcement is too new, and I confess it never occurred to me that she could be such a fool. I am inclined to believe she might have made a sensation if only she had been content to wait until she got rid of that hideous mourning. Still, I have thought—"
"What?"