shook his head.
''Not a ounce of poison?'' said John, looking hopeful.
''Not an ounce. Not a scruple. And no money in the bank—not in the old man''s name, at least. He lives so quietly and so queerly, he scarcely knows what money''s for. But there, do you see, he doesn''t live alone. Look here, who he keeps for his companion ..."
The Queen of Hearts.
''Heh, heh,'' said John, growing sly. ''A wife, very game.''
But Gentleman shook his head again.
A daughter, ditto?'' said John.
''Not a wife. Not a daughter,'' said Gentleman, with his eyes and his fingers on the Queen''s unhappy face. A niece. In years,'' he glanced at me, ''say Sue''s years. In looks, say handsome. Of sense, understanding and knowledge,'' he smiled, ''why, let''s say perfectly shy.''
''A flat!'' said John with relish. ''Tell me she''s rich, at least.'' ''She''s rich, oh yes,'' said Gentleman, nodding. ''But only as a caterpillar is rich in wings, or clover rich in honey. She''s an heiress, Johnny: her fortune is certain, the uncle can''t touch it; but it comes with a queer condition attached. She won''t see a penny till the day she marries. If she dies a spinster, the money goes to a cousin. If she
takes a husband''—he stroked the card with one white finger—''she''s rich as a queen.''
''How rich?'' said Mr Ibbs. He had not spoken, all this time. Gentleman heard him now, looked up, and held his gaze.