"Yes--yes--it was in the letter that you gave me," she said, conscious
that such agreements belonged to works of fiction and to police courts.
"Certainly I have to pay him a good large slice out of the money."
"It is fifteen thousand pounds, is it not? How much is to be paid to
the--to the doctor?"
"We agreed that he was to have the half," said Lord Harry, laughing
lightly. "But as I thought that seven thousand five hundred pounds was
a sum of money which would probably turn his head and bring him to
starvation in a year or two, I told him that the whole amount was four
thousand pounds. Therefore he is to have two thousand pounds for his
share. And quite enough too."
"Treachery on treachery!" said his wife. "Fraud on fraud! Would to
GOD," she added with a sigh, "that you had never met this man!"
"I dare say it would have been better for me, on the whole," he
replied. "But then, my dear, a man like myself is always meeting people
whom it would have been better not to have met. Like will to like, I
suppose. Given the active villain and the passive consenter, and they
are sure to meet. Not that I throw stones at the worthy doctor. Not at
all."
"We cannot, Harry," said his wife.
"We cannot, my dear. Bien entendu! Well, Iris, there is no more to be
said. You know the situation completely. You can back out of it if you
please, and leave me. Then I shall have to begin all over again a new
conspiracy far more dangerous than the last. Well, I shall not drag you
down with me. That is my resolution. If it comes to public
degradation--but it shall not. Iris, I promise you one thing." For once
he looked as if he meant it. "Death before dishonour. Death without
your name being mixed up at all, save with pity for being the wife of
such a man."
Again he conquered her.
"Harry," she said, "I will go."