On his bad nights he always
made me open the grave, and spread out the money, make a show of it, you
know. Then it had to be put back in bags--the money bags lived in the
brown leather bag--and the grave had to be fastened down. Altogether it
was a good bit of work. I'd just got it open, and the money spread out,
when he turned bad--a sort of collapse like the one you saw; and I was so
busy getting him to bed that I forgot the cursed grave and the
money--just as I forgot to put away the knife-and-fork before you called
the first time, and you saw through me!"
"If you're not a good conspirator, it's another reason for not
conspiring, Mr. Beaumaroy. I know you conspired for him first of
all, but--"
"Well, he's safe, he's at peace. It can all come out now, and it must.
You know, and you must tell the truth. I don't know whether they can put
me in prison. I should hardly think they'd bother, if they get the money
all right. In any case I don't care much. Lord, what a lot of people'll
say 'I told you so--bad egg, that Beaumaroy!' No, I don't care. My old
man's safe; I've won my big game after all, Doctor Mary!"
"I don't believe you cared about the money really!" she cried.
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