eyes wide. You need
t . Do you to you?
And do you trust you not to? You told me vourself, at Briar, o, for moneys sake. I mean to c me of all my fortune. tell me you s get it, tcer some slig contracts. Clever Sue. Good girl.
S up, Maud.
. the deed upon your conscience. I suppose you have one?
Not one, ly, t roubled by to like it.
till gazing at t speaking. You do everyt her word?
Everyt meaningfully; and e, not understanding, en to me, Maud. t. From start to finis I am, I am not so great a s I would swindle .
—but t to me before. You are lying, I say.
No. truth.
believe it. S sent you to Briar, to my uncle? And before t, to Paris? to Mr rey?
S sent me to you. No matter all ting patook to reac aken t kno t eps.
I glance betune, ter a moment. So anyone mig of the house?
S anyone.
ts o mine again at last, and nods. I kneher, she says.
My moto my t—a curious trait lies s ribbon fraying, I in years. My moto London to escape once, I t Briar—untended, untrimmed, its one creeping h grey.
till c my hand drop.
I dont believe you, I say. My mot was her name?__
tell me t.
So look sly. I kno, s say it just yet. Ill tell you tter t started it, t arts your name. Ill tell you tter. t oo! t letter, t. t was aR . . .
S, I kno? ho is she?
A nurse, I say. You were a nurse—
But s smiles. Now, w?
You dont kno kno I was born in a madhouse!
as you? she answers quickly. hy do you say so?
You t remember my own home?
I stle. mean here.
I , I say.
You old it, I expect.
Every one of my uncles servants kno!
told it, too, per make it true? Maybe, j Maybe not.
As sand to ts upon it, sloness
s, Gentleman?—I last t t? me again. e keeps t room, s, friendly, dangerous tone, for Gentleman to kip in of room it is, I can tell you. Seen all manner of business up ts of tri