The Angel of Terror | Page 6

me
back to my office. I have a job to keep," she added grimly.
"Six pounds ten a week, and a few guineas extra for your illustrations,"
said the man in the raincoat. "Believe me, Miss Beale, you'll never pay
off your debts on that salary, not if you live to be a hundred."

She could only gasp.
"You seem to know a great deal about my private affairs," she said,
when she had recovered her breath.
"A great deal more than you can imagine."
She guessed he was smiling in the darkness, and his voice was so
gentle and apologetic that she could not take offence.
"In the past twelve months you have had thirty-nine judgments
recorded against you, and in the previous year, twenty-seven. You are
living on exactly thirty shillings a week, and all the rest is going to your
father's creditors."
"You're very impertinent!" she said hotly and, as she felt, foolishly.
"I'm very pertinent, really. By the way, my name is Glover--John
Glover, of the firm of Rennett, Glover and Simpson. The gentleman at
your side is Mr. Charles Rennett, my senior partner. We are a firm of
solicitors, but how long we shall remain a firm," he added pointedly,
"depends rather upon you."
"Upon me?" said the girl in genuine astonishment. "Well, I can't say
that I have so much love for lawyers----"
"That I can well understand," murmured Mr. Glover.
"But I certainly do not wish to dissolve your partnership," she went on.
"It is rather more serious than that," said Mr. Rennett, who was sitting
by her side. "The fact is, Miss Beale, we are acting in a perfectly illegal
manner, and we are going to reveal to you the particulars of an act we
contemplate, which, if you pass on the information to the police, will
result in our professional ruin. So you see this adventure is infinitely
more important to us than at present it is to you. And here we are!" he
said, interrupting the girl's question.
The car turned into a narrow drive, and proceeded some distance

through an avenue of trees before it pulled up at the pillared porch of a
big house.
Rennett helped her to alight and ushered her through the door, which
opened almost as they stopped, into a large panelled hall.
"This is the way, let me show you," said the younger man.
He opened a door and she found herself in a big drawing-room,
exquisitely furnished and lit by two silver electroliers suspended from
the carved roof.
To her relief an elderly woman rose to greet her.
"This is my wife, Miss Beale," said Rennett. "I need hardly explain that
this is also my home."
"So you found the young lady," said the elderly lady, smiling her
welcome, "and what does Miss Beale think of your proposition?"
The young man Glover came in at that moment, and divested of his
long raincoat and hat, he proved to be of a type that the Universities
turn out by the hundred. He was good-looking too, Lydia noticed with
feminine inconsequence, and there was something in his eyes that
inspired trust. He nodded with a smile to Mrs. Rennett, then turned to
the girl.
"Now Miss Beale, I don't know whether I ought to explain or whether
my learned and distinguished friend prefers to save me the trouble."
"Not me," said the elder man hastily. "My dear," he turned to his wife,
"I think we'll leave Jack Glover to talk to this young lady."
"Doesn't she know?" asked Mrs. Rennett in surprise, and Lydia laughed,
although she was feeling far from amused.
The possible loss of her employment, the disquieting adventure of the
evening, and now this further mystery all combined to set her nerves on
edge.

Glover waited until the door closed on his partner and his wife and
seemed inclined to wait a little longer, for he stood with his back to the
fire, biting his lips and looking down thoughtfully at the carpet.
"I don't just know how to begin, Miss Beale," he said. "And having
seen you, my conscience is beginning to work overtime. But I might as
well start at the beginning. I suppose you have heard of the Bulford
murder?"
The girl stared at him.
"The Bulford murder?" she said incredulously, and he nodded.
"Why, of course, everybody has heard of that."
"Then happily it is unnecessary to explain all the circumstances," said
Jack Glover, with a little grimace of distaste.
"I only know," interrupted the girl, "that Mr. Bulford was killed by a
Mr. Meredith, who was jealous of him, and that Mr. Meredith, when he
went into the witness-box, behaved disgracefully to his fiancée."
"Exactly," nodded Glover with a twinkle in his eye. "In other words, he
repudiated the suggestion