“But Mr. Rushworth,” she began falteringly, “again told me, in a cable that I received only this morning, that you would do everything you could for me, Mr. Oram?”
She had not meant to tell anyone of that long, intimately-worded cable, the first in which Rushworth had allowed something of his intense exultation at the knowledge that she was now free to pierce through the measured words. It seemed to her impossible that anyone could disregard the wishes of so important and, above all, so wealthy a man as Miles Rushworth. To Ivy the sound of money talking drowned every other sound in life. But this, to her discomfiture, was not the case with John Oram.
“I know that,” and this time he spoke more kindly. “And I’m sorry I shall not be able to do what Mr. Rushworth very naturally hoped I could do. But I have discovered—” and then he stopped for what seemed to her a long time.
He was wondering whether she was yet aware that Roger Gretorex had been arrested on the charge of having murdered her husband. Already the fact was billed in all the early editions of the evening papers.
“The truth is,” he began again, and in a colder tone, “not only I, but my father before me, and my grandfather before him, acted in a legal capacity for the Gretorex family.”
The colour rushed into Ivy’s face. She said defensively, “But need that make any difference, Mr. Oram?”
“Well, yes, I’m sorry to say that it will, Mrs. Lexton. Roger Gretorex, as you are no doubt aware, was arrested last night on a charge of having poisoned Mr. Jervis Lexton. He has put his interests in my hands. It would not be to your advantage were you to employ the same solicitor as the man who is accused of having murdered your husband. I am sure,” he cleared his throat, “you are aware of what Dr. Gretorex’s motive is supposed to have been, assuming that he is guilty of that of which he is accused?”
Ivy looked so frightened that for a moment he thought she was going to faint.
Then she hadn’t known of Gretorex’s arrest? Even John Oram, who was already strongly prejudiced against her, could not doubt that the horror and distress with which she heard his news were genuine.
She sank down into a chair.
“But this is terrible—terrible!” she moaned.
“It is terrible, Mrs. Lexton. And, incidentally, you see, now, how I am situated? When I came here to see you yesterday, I naturally did not associate my friend and client, Dr. Roger Gretorex, with the strange and mysterious circumstances surrounding your husband’s death. I have not yet seen a copy of the statement you appear to have made to the inspector who came to see you from Scotland Yard; but I gather that you made certain admissions that were very detrimental to my client.”
“The man pressed me so! I didn’t want to hurt Roger,” she exclaimed, and thought she spoke the truth.
Twenty minutes later, as the two came out of the bank, Mr. Oram said quietly:
“With your permission, Mrs. Lexton, I am going to put you in touch with an old friend of mine, a most able lawyer named Paxton-Smith. He will not only watch your interests in a general sense, but you can trust him to give you the soundest advice. In your place, I would make a point of being frank with him concerning everything connected with your husband’s life as well as with his death.”
It was strange what a feeling of repugnance, almost of horror, this beautiful girl—for she looked a girl—inspired in him. But that, so he told himself, for he tried to be fair-minded, was no doubt owing to the way Roger Gretorex’s mother had spoken of Ivy Lexton that morning.
“Tell Mr. Paxton-Smith, as far you know it, the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” he went on. “Many ladies, when in conference with their legal adviser, are tempted to hold something back. There can be no greater mistake. You can be absolutely sure of Mr. Paxton-Smith’s discretion; and unless he knows everything you can tell him, it will be impossible for him to advise you adequately.”
She was gazing at him with affrighted eyes. Tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? Why, she couldn’t even begin to think of doing that! But, even so, the old lawyer’s words impressed her. Why, oh! why, had she been tempted to tell the man from Scotland Yard that half-truth as to Roger and his love for her? By now, when it had become clear to her that no one suspected her, she had almost forgotten what had brought about that dangerous admission.
“You are, I understand, going to be the chief witness for the Crown,” said Mr. Oram solemnly.
“I didn’t know that! What does being that mean?” faltered Ivy.
“It means,” he said drily, “that the prosecution is counting on you to aid them in proving that Roger Gretorex became that most despicable of human beings, a slow, secret poisoner, in order that you might be free to become his wife.”
She unconsciously stayed her steps, and was staring up at him as if hypnotised by his words.
He looked down fixedly into her face. What lay hidden behind those lovely eyes, that exquisite little mouth, now spoilt, according to his taste, by a smear of scarlet paint?
“Only God knows the secrets of all hearts, Mrs. Lexton. I have not asked you, and I do not propose to ask you, if you believe that unhappy young man to be guilty of the fearful crime of which he is accused, and for which he is about to stand on trial for his life. But if there is any doubt in your mind, and, far more, if you believe him innocent, I beg you, earnestly, to consider and weigh every word you utter from now on.”
But, even as he made that appeal, moved out of his usual cautious
