and it was malign and almost evil, and it made him uncomfortable.
"Where is the will?" she asked.
"Safe! In my keeping," answered Pratt.
She looked him all over—surmisingly.
"You'll sell it to me?" she suggested. "You'll hand it over—and let me burn it—destroy it?
"No!" answered Pratt. "I shall not!"
He saw that his answer produced personal anger at last. Mrs. Mallathorpe gave him a look which would have warned a much less observant man than Pratt. But he gave her back a look that was just as resolute.
"I say no—and I mean no!" he continued. "I won't sell—but I'll bargain. Let's be plain with each other. You don't want that will to be handed over to the trustees named in it, Charlesworth & Wyatt?"
"Do you think I'm a fool—man!" she flashed out.
"I should be a fool myself if I did," replied Pratt calmly. "And I'm not a fool. Very well—then you'll square me. You'll buy me. Come to terms with me, and nobody shall ever know. I repeat to you what I've said before—not a soul knows now, no nor suspects! It's utterly impossible for anybody to find out. The testator's dead. The attesting witnesses are dead. The man who found this will is dead. No one but you and myself ever need know a word about all this. If—you make terms with me, Mrs. Mallathorpe."
"What do you want?" she asked sullenly. "You forget—I've nothing of my own. I didn't come into anything.
"I've a pretty good notion who's real master here—
