Part 33 (2/2)

Lucille started. The meaning of that could not be misunderstood; she charged that the money was offered at Arthur Sloane's instigation and that the concern for Berne Webster was merely pretence.

Mrs. Brace saw her anger, and placated it:

”Don't mind me, Miss Sloane. A woman who's had to endure what I have--well, she doesn't always think clearly.”

”Perhaps not,” Lucille a.s.sented; but she was aware of a sudden longing to be done with the degrading work. ”Now that we understand each other, Mrs. Brace, what do you say?”

Mrs. Brace thought again.

”How much?” she asked at last, her lips thickening. ”How much, Miss Sloane, do you think my silence is worth?”

Lucille took a roll of bills from her handbag. The woman's chair slid forward, answering to the forward--leaning weight of her new posture.

She was lightly rubbing her palms together, as, with head a little bowed, she stared at the money in the younger woman's hand.

”I have here five hundred dollars,” Lucille began.

”What!”

Mrs. Brace said that roughly; and, in violent anger, drew back, the legs of her chair grating on the floor.

For a moment Lucille gazed at her, uncomprehending.

”Oh!” she said, uncertainly. ”You mean--it isn't enough?”

”Enough!” Mrs. Brace's rage and disappointment grew, her lowered brows a straight line close down to her eyes.

”But I could get more!” Lucille exclaimed, struggling with disgust.

”This,” she added, with ready invention, ”can serve as a part payment, a promise of----”

”Ah-h!” the older woman exclaimed. ”That's different. I misunderstood.”

She put down the signals of her wrath, succeeding in that readjustment so promptly that Lucille stared at her in undisguised amazement.

”You must pardon me, Miss Sloane. I thought you were making me the victim of your ridicule, some heartless joke.”

”Then, we can come to an agreement? That is, if this money is the first----”

She broke the sentence. Mrs. Brace had put up her hand, and now held her head to one side, listening.

There was a step clearly audible outside, in the main hall. The next moment the doorbell rang. They sat motionless. When the bell rang again, Mrs. Brace informed her with a look that she would not answer it.

But the ringing continued, became a prolonged jangle. It got on Lucille's already strained nerves.

”Suppose you slip into the bedroom,” Mrs. Brace whispered.

”Oh, no!” Lucille whispered back.

She was weighed down by black premonition; she hoped Mrs. Brace would not open the door.

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