"I am not afraid of you or your knife, if that is what you mean." Indeed, absolute fearlessness was one of Gwen's characteristics. "What did you go to Mr. Wardle's for?"
"On a visit to my wife."
Gwen started. "Who is your wife?" said she. Susan Burr flashed into her mind first. But then, how about "Aunt Maria" on the envelope, and her readiness to act as this man's agent?
"Polly Daverill's my wife—my lawful wife! That's more than my father could say of my mother."
"I know that you are lying, but I do not care why. Do you want to see your mother?"
"If sootable and convenient. No great hurry!"
"She is in bed. I will get her ready for you to see her. Do not go near the dog. They say he has killed a man."
"A man'll kill him if he gives occasion. Make him fast, for his own sake. There's money there—he's a tike o' some value. Maybe forty pound. You tie him up!" Gwen hooked his chain round the table-leg, starting him on a series of growls—low thunder in short lengths. He had been very quiet.
She passed into the bedroom, and opening the shutters, threw light full on the bed. Then she drew back the sheet she had replaced. Oh, the beauty of that white marble face, and the stillness!
"You can come in, quietly."