ou would like the particulars of that?"
"Please," assented Carrados.
"When our father died about seven years ago, he left three thousand
pounds. It was invested in Canadian stock and brought in a little over
a hundred a year. By his will my mother was to have the income of that
for life and on her death it was to pass to Millicent, subject to the
payment of a lump sum of five hundred pounds to me. But my father
privately suggested to me that if I should have no particular use for
the money at the time, he would propose my letting Millicent have the
income of it until I did want it, as she would not be particularly
well off. You see, Mr. Carrados, a great deal more had been spent on
my education and advancement than on her; I had my pay, and, of
course, I could look out for myself better than a girl could."
"Quite so," agreed Carrados.
"Therefore I did nothing about that," continued the lieutenant. "Three
years ago I was over again but I did not see much of them. They were
living in lodgings. That was the only time since the marriage that I
have seen them until last week. In the meanwhile our mother had died
and Millicent had been receiving her income. She wrote me several
letters at the time. Otherwise we did not correspond much, but about a
year ago she sent me their new address--Brookbend Cottage, Mulling
Common--a house that they had taken. When I got two months' leave I
invited myself there as a matter of course, fully expecting to stay
most of my time with them, but I made an excuse to get away after a
week. The place was dismal and unendurable, the whole life and
atmosphere indescribably depressing." He looked round with an instinct
of caution, leaned forward earnestly, and dropped his voice. "Mr.
Carrados, it is my absolute conviction that Creake is only waiting for
a favourable opportunity to murder Millicent."
"Go on," said Carrados quietly. "A week of the depressing surroundings
of Brookbend Cottage would not alone convince you of that, Mr.
Hollyer."
"I am not so sure," declared Hollyer doubtfully. "There was a feeling
of suspicion and--before me--polite hatred that would have gone a good
way towards it. All the same there _was_ something more definite.
Millicent told me this the day after I went there. There is no doubt
that a few months ago Creake deliberately planned to poison her with
some weed-killer. She told me the circumstances in a rather distressed
moment, but afterwards she refused to s
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