The Greatest Thrillers of Fergus Hume. Fergus Hume

of that!"

      Guessing that Vark had some scheme in his head which he was striving to bring to fulfilment, Hagar dropped her sewing, and looked sharply at him. As Vark spoke she saw him glance at the Chinese jar, and mentally wondered what possible connection that could have with the subject of conversation. On this point she was soon enlightened.

      "Vark," said Dix, seriously, "are you going to tell me that Jimmy wished to kill me?"

      The lawyer held up his hands in horror. "Oh, dear, that I should be so misunderstood!" he said in a piteous tone. "Jimmy was not so bad as that, my venerable friend. But if some one else had put you out of the way, he would not have been sorry."

      "Do you mean Hagar?"

      "Let him dare to say so!" cried the girl, leaping to her feet with flaming eyes. "I do not know your son, Mr. Dix."

      "What!" said Vark, softly; "not red-haired Jimmy!"

      Hagar sat down with a pale face. "Red-haired!" she muttered. "Goliath! No, it is impossible!"

      Vark looked at Hagar, and she stared back at him again. With the approaching senility of old age, Jacob had ceased to take part in the conversation, and was moodily staring at the miserable fire, a trembling and palsied creature. The idea hinted at by Vark--that Hagar had been employed by Jimmy to destroy him--so stupefied his brain that he was incapable of even expressing an opinion. Seeing this, the lawyer glided away from the dangerous topic, to carry out the second part of his scheme.

      "Oh, dear, dear!" he said, hunting in his pockets. "My pipe is empty, and I have no tobacco with me."

      "Then go without it, Mr. Vark!" said Hagar, sharply. "There's no tobacco here."

      "Oh, yes; I think in that jar," said the lawyer, pointing one lean finger at the high shelf--"Jimmy's jar."

      "Leave Jimmy's jar alone!" mumbled Jacob, savagely.

      "What! will not Mr. Dix spare one tiny pipe of tobacco for his old friend?" whined Vark, going towards the shelf. "Oh, I think so; I am certain," and with this one of his long arms shot upwards to seize the jar. Jacob rose unsteadily as Vark took down the article, and he scowled fiercely at the daring of his visitor. Indifferent to what was going on, Hagar continued her sewing.

      "Leave that jar of Jimmy's alone, I tell you!" snarled Dix, seizing the poker. "I'll break your fox's head if you don't!"

      "Violence--and from gentle Mr. Dix!" cried Vark, still gripping the jar. "Oh, no, no, not at all! If he---"

      At this moment Jacob lost patience, and delivered a swinging blow at the lawyer's head.

      Ever watchful, Vark threw himself to one side, and the poker crashed down on the jar, which he held in his hands. In a moment it lay in fragments on the floor. A pile of broken china, a loose bit of dried tobacco, and a carelessly folded paper.

      "See what your angry passion has done!" said Vark, pointing reproachfully to the débris. "You have broken poor Jimmy's jar!"

      Jacob threw the poker inside the fender, and bent to pick up the folded paper, which he opened in a mechanical manner. Always methodical, Hagar went out of the room to fetch a dust-pan and broom. Before she could return with them she was recalled by a cry from Vark; and on rushing back she saw Jacob prone on the floor among the broken china. He had fainted, and the paper was still clutched in his hand.

      "Bring water--salts!" cried Vark, his eyes filled with a triumphant light at the success of his plot. "My venerable friend is ill!"

      "What have you been doing to him?" demanded Hagar, as she loosened the scarf round the old man's neck.

      "I? Nothing! He read that paper which fell out of the jar--Jimmy's jar," added Vark, pointedly--"and went down like a ninepin!"

      There was a jug of water on the table, used by Vark for diluting his gin, so Hagar sprinkled the wrinkled face of her master with this fluid, and slapped his hands. Vark looked on rather anxiously. He did not wish the old man to die yet; and Jacob was a long time coming out of his swoon.

      "This paper made him faint," said Vark, removing it from Jacob's feeble grasp. "Let us see what it says." He knew the contents quite well, but nevertheless he read it aloud in a distinct voice for the benefit of Hagar. Thus ran the words: "Memo.: To extract the juice of foxglove--a poison difficult to trace--nothing can be proved after death. Small doses daily in old man's tea or gruel. He would die in a few weeks without suspicion. Will trust nobody, but will prepare drug myself."

      Hagar looked steadily at Vark. "Who wrote that," she said in a low voice--"the old man's son or--you?"

      "I?" cried Vark, with well-simulated indignation, "why should I write it?--or how could I write it? The penmanship is that of James Dix; it was concealed in his tobacco-jar; the jar was broken by accident; you saw it yourself. Do you dare to----"

      "Be silent!" interrupted Hagar, raising Jacob's head; "he is reviving."

      The old pawnbroker opened his eyes and looked wildly around. Little by little his senses returned to him, and he sat up. Then, with the aid of Hagar, he climbed into his chair, and began to talk and sigh.

      "Little Jimmy wants me to die," he moaned, feebly. "Hagar's son wants to kill me. Foxglove poison--I know it! Not a trace does it leave after death. Hagar's son! Hagar's boy! Parricide! Parricide!" he cried, shaking his two fists in the air.

      "He wanted the money, you know," hinted Vark, softly.

      "He shall not have the money!" said Jacob with unnatural energy. "I'll make a new will--I'll disinherit him! Parricide! Hagar shall have all!"

      "I, Mr. Dix? No, no!"

      "I say yes, you jade! Don't cross a dying man. I am dying; this is my death-blow. O Jimmy, Jimmy! Wolf's cub! My will! my will!"

      Pushing back Hagar, who strove to keep him in his chair, he snatched up the candle and staggered towards the safe to get his will. While he was looking within, Vark hastily fumbled in his capacious pockets. When Jacob replaced the candle on the table, Hagar saw thereon a sheet of paper covered with writing; also pen and ink. Jacob, clutching the will, beheld these things also, and anticipated the question on Hagar's lips.

      "What's all this?"

      "Your new will, Mr. Dix," explained Vark, smoothly. "I never did trust your son, and I knew some day that you would find him out. I therefore prepared a will by which you left everything to Hagar. Or," added the lawyer, taking another document from his pocket, "if you chose to make me your heir---"

      "You? You? Never!" shrieked Jacob, shaking his fist. "All shall go to Hagar, the namesake of my dead wife. I'm glad you had the sense to see, that failing Jimmy, I'd leave her my money."

      "Mr. Dix," interrupted Hagar, firmly, "I do not want your money; and you have no right to rob your son of---"

      "No right! No right, you jade! The money is mine! mine! It shall be yours. I could have forgiven anything to Jimmy save his wish to poison me."

      "I don't believe he did wish it," said Hagar, bluntly.

      "But the paper--his own handwriting!" cried Vark.

      "Yes, yes; I know Jimmy's handwriting," said Jacob, the veins in his forehead swelling with rage. "He is a devil--a par--par--!" The violence of his temper was such that Hagar stepped forward to soothe him. Even Vark felt alarmed.

      "Keep quiet, you old fool!" said he, roughly; "you'll break a blood-vessel! Here, sign this will. I'll witness it; and---" He stopped, and whistled shrilly. A man appeared. "Here is another witness," said Vark. "Sign!"

      "It's a plot! a plot!" cried Hagar. "Don't sign, Mr. Dix. I don't want the money."

      "I'll make you take it, hussy!" snarled Jacob, crushing the will up in his hand. "I shall leave it to you--not to Jimmy, the parricide. First I'll destroy this." With the old will he approached the fire, and threw it in. With the swiftness of a swallow Hagar darted past him and snatched the document away from the flames before it was even scorched. Jacob staggered back, mad with rage. Vark ground his teeth at her opposition.