The Red Window Part 24

"Yes," replied Mrs. Gilroy, coldly, and took the seat which had been vacated by Jane. "My beggarly annuity?"

The lawyer, who had taken up his position before the fire with his hands under the tails of his frock coat, turned to look at her. The bitterness of the tone startled him. "What do you mean?"

"Mean!" echoed Mrs. Gilroy, with a vindictive glitter in her pale eyes.

"That Sir Simon promised me five hundred a year for life."

"Oh, you must be mistaken," said Durham, quickly. "He never said you were to have more than one hundred."

"He might not to you, but he did to me," said the housekeeper, doggedly.

"I have a right to five hundred."

"I think not," said the lawyer, calmly. "And let me tell you, Mrs.

Gilroy, that Sir Simon did not place your name at all in the second will. Had it been executed, you would not have had even the one hundred you despise. Therefore, you may congratulate yourself"--he watched her face while speaking--"that Sir Simon changed his mind about disinheriting his grandson."

The woman's eyes glittered still more maliciously and a color rose in her bloodless cheeks. "Oh!" she said, with icy disdain, "so Sir Simon would have deprived me of my rights, would he? It's lucky he's dead, or he'd find himself on the wrong side of the hedge with me."

"Ah!" Durham resumed his seat and waited to hear what would come forth. And something would come out not easily attainable at other times, for Mrs. Gilroy was apparently losing her temper. This was most extraordinary for her, as she was usually cautious. But since the death of her master, who had kept her in check, she seemed to be a much more reckless woman. The lawyer had always wondered what bond held Sir Simon and the housekeeper together, and now there seemed some likelihood that he would learn, if he held his tongue and allowed full play to that of Mrs. Gilroy.

"I knew how it would be," she muttered. "I guessed he would play me false. He never was worth a kekaubi."

"You are a gipsy," said Durham, looking up.

"What makes you say that?"

"Kekaubi is Romany for kettle. You wouldn't use it unless--"

"Who I am is nothing to you," interrupted Mrs. Gilroy, sharply.

"Yet you don't resemble the Romany!" said Durham, looking at her drab appearance. "Your eyes are pale and your hair--"

"Let my appearance be, Mr. Durham. I am here for justice, not to hear my looks discussed. Sir Simon left me one hundred a year. I want you as the executor of the estate to make it the five hundred he promised me."

"I don't know that he promised you that sum," said the solicitor, "and even if he did I cannot give it to you. The money now belongs to Sir Bernard Gore."

"He is supposed to be dead."

"You put it rightly," replied the man. "He is supposed to be dead, but until his dead body is found I will administer the estate on his behalf.

But I have no power to help you."

Mrs. Gilroy seemed struck by this view of the case. "Suppose Sir Bernard isn't dead?" she asked.

Durham felt a qualm and suppressed a start with difficulty. Had this dangerous woman discovered the fugitive at Cove Castle. "Do you know if he is alive?" asked Durham, quietly looking at her.

"Perhaps," said Mrs. Gilroy, who seemed to be thinking. Then she rose.

"I don't know that I need bother you further," she said.

"Will you tell me why you demand this money?"

"Because Sir Simon promised it to me."

"On what grounds."

"On very good grounds."

"Will you tell me what they are?"

"Will you give me the five hundred a year if I do?" she countered.

"That is out of my power. When Sir Bernard appears I will speak to him on the subject if your claim is a good one."

"My claim is an excellent one," she burst out, raising herself to her full height. "It is the claim of a wronged woman!" She paused. "I want to ask you about the will," she said. "Is it worded that the money is left 'to my grandson.'"

"To my grandson Bernard Gore."

"The name is mentioned."

"It is. The money is clearly left to Sir Bernard."

"Sir Bernard," she sneered. "Why give him a t.i.tle to which he has no claim? The money may be his, else I would not tell you what I now do tell you. My son is the baronet--my son Michael."

Durham stared at her, quite taken aback. "What on earth are you talking about, Mrs. Gilroy?" he demanded.

"Mrs. Gilroy," she echoed with scorn. "I shall no longer use a false name. I am Mrs. Walter Gore."

"Impossible. Walter Gore was married to Bianca Tolomeo!"

"He was married to me first," said Mrs. Gilroy, rapidly. "Yes, you may stare, but I am the lawful wife of Walter Gore and my son Michael is the heir. He is the image of his father. There's no trickery about the matter."

"The image of his father," cried Durham, a sudden light breaking in upon him. "And Walter Gore was tall, slim, the image of his son Bernard. Mrs.

Gore, or Mrs. Gilroy, or whatever you call yourself, was it your son who murdered his grandfather?"

The woman became livid. "No, I swear he didn't. He is in America."

"He is in England, and he masqueraded as Bernard when courting Jane the housemaid," said Durham, excitedly. "You say yourself he resembled Walter Gore. Bernard is exactly like his father, so Michael must resemble him sufficiently to pa.s.s as him."

"It is absolutely false!" cried Mrs. Gilroy, seeing she had fallen into the trap of her own words. "My son is in America. You shall not prove him guilty. I opened the door to Bernard."

"To Michael. You perhaps mistook him for Bernard."

"A mother can't mistake her own son. But Michael is the heir. I shall write to America and bring him home. I can prove my marriage with Walter Gore."

"Do so by all means," said Durham, recovering his wits. "I am acting for Sir Bernard, and he shall not lose the t.i.tle if I can help it. I see you are playing a deep game, Mrs. Gilroy, but you have let out too much. I shall now search for Michael, your son, and see if he was not in London on the night of the twenty-third of October."

Mrs. Gilroy, pale and looking like a tigress at bay, drew back to the door without a word. Before Durham knew of her intention she opened it and slipped away. He did not seek to detain her.