"You think it over," whispered Madame Flora. "We're not in a 'urry to a
day or two. And look here, Modam, I'll be open with you! If you'll do
that for Piper, it'll be in full discharge of anything you owe 'im--d'you
take my meaning?"
Enid Crofton got up slowly from her chair almost as an automaton might
have done. She wanted to say that she did not in the least know what Mrs.
Piper _did_ mean. But somehow her lips refused to form the words. She was
afraid even to shake her head.
"I told you a fib just now"--Mrs. Piper's voice again dropped to a
whisper. "Piper's made a clean breast o' the matter to me, and I do think
as what it's common justice to admit that my 'usband's evidence at that
inquest was worth more than twenty-five pound to you. It wasn't what
Piper said; _it was what 'e didn't say that mattered_, Mrs. Crofton. It's
been on 'is mind awful--I'll take my Bible oath on that. But 'live and
let live,' that's my motter. We don't want to do anything unkind, but
we're in a fix ourselves--"
"I haven't got five hundred pounds," said Enid Crofton desperately;
"that's God's truth, Mrs. Piper."
To that assertion Madame Flora made no direct answer; she only observed,
in a quiet conversational tone, and speaking no longer in a whisper.
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