Page:The Whisper on the Stair by Lyon Mearson (1924).djvu/104

 came along with that ten thousand dollars like a bolt from the blue—it put a different aspect on life entirely. I can pay off the mortgage.”

“What mortgage?” he inquired.

“On our Virginia place. A long time ago, when my father had some legal trouble, he thought that if he lost the case they might take away his property, so he protected the Virginia place by a mortgage for seven thousand dollars which he gave to Ignace Teck—it’s really worth many times that, you know. Now Ignace is foreclosing the mortgage—not because he wants the place so badly, but because he always had an idea that dad’s money was hidden somewhere down there; there are thousands of acres on the estate, and there’s lots of room for it. He’s getting the idea that I don’t want to marry him, and he figures that if he owns the Virginia estate he can shut me out of it and look for the money at his leisure. The action isn’t finished yet—which is why you were so much of a godsend. I’ve already sent enough money down to my lawyers in Norfolk to fix the matter up.”

“But surely you don’t intend to marry this man?” inquired Val, leaning forward.

“Why not?” she answered coolly. “I promised to.” It was a statement of fact, as though there were no other course, yet Val was glad to see the flush of color that had come up into her cheeks and the emotion that caused her to veil her eyes once more.

“Well,” he said slowly and deliberately, “he’s a murderer, you know.”

She paled at this, though she had probably thought on the matter many times since it had first occurred to her. But she answered coldly.