Free Wicked Uncle by Patricia Wentworth Page A

knows. When he comes down this afternoon he will have some papers with him which I very much want to see. They’ll be in his attaché case and I want to have a look at them.”
    “I can’t—I can’t—I can’t!”
    “Now what’s the use of saying that? It’s as easy as kissing your hand. When Martin goes to dress for dinner, where does he generally put that case of his?”
    “In the study. But I can’t—and the case is locked—”
    “The study—that’s the room under this?”
    “But I can’t!”
    “My dear Linnet, I don’t want to lose my temper, but if you go on with these senseless repetitions I probably shall, and then you won’t like it. You never did, did you?”
    She shuddered from head to foot. The past came up in small, bright pictures, quite clear, quite dreadful, quite terrifying. No one who hadn’t seen Glen lose his temper could possibly believe how dreadful it was.
    He laughed.
    “All right. You do what you’re told and there won’t be any unpleasantness. This is what you’ve got to do. While Martin is dressing you’ll take that case with the papers in it and put it outside the study window on the window-sill, and you’ll leave the window unlatched. Now that’s absolutely all I’m asking you to do. It won’t take half a minute, and there’s no risk about it at all. The case will be back again on the study table before you’ve finished your dinner, and Martin will never know it’s been out of the house. If you feel like wandering in and fastening the window any time after ten o’clock, it wouldn’t be at all a bad thing.”
    She said in a dreadfully frightened voice,
    “I can’t do it—”
    “Quite easy, you know.”
    Her hands twisted in her lap.
    “I know I’m stupid about money, but I’m not as stupid as you think. If I let you see those papers, you’ll be making money, and Martin will be losing it.”
    “Perfectly correct. Quite a lot of money too. Now just go on being intelligent for a moment. How much do you think Martin would pay to save your reputation and keep you out of the dock? To say nothing about saving his son from being publicly exposed as illegitimate. I should have said he would put his hand pretty deep into his pocket. He’s fond of you, isn’t he?”
    “Oh, yes—”
    “And of the boy?”
    “Oh, Glen!”
    “If you call me Glen, I really will murder you! Just let’s have that again, and make it ‘Oh, Greg!’ ”
    She repeated it in a terrified whisper.
    “That’s better! Well now, this sum of money is what Martin is going to pay to keep his wife, his son, and his peace of mind. Do you think he’d grudge it if he knew? You know he wouldn’t —not if it was twice as much. Do you know, like a more famous adventurer, I really am surprised at my own moderation.”
    Linnet Oakley gazed at him. She would have to do it—she had known that all along—she couldn’t hold out against Glen. She couldn’t lose Martin. And she couldn’t go to prison. Martin wouldn’t want her to go to prison. He would pay anything for her, or for Marty. It didn’t really matter about the money. She said in a yielding voice,
    “If I do it, will you promise—will you really, really promise that Martin won’t know?”
    Gregory Porlock laughed heartily.
    “My dear, I should think even you would see that I’m not likely to want Martin to know!”
    Chapter X
    Dorinda had a perfectly silent drive down to the Mill House. Martin Oakley sat in front beside the chauffeur and never uttered. She had the back to herself, with a cushion to tuck into the corner, and a lovely warm rug. As she watched the streets and the people slipping by she had at least one cause for gratitude. Martin Oakley certainly wasn’t the Wicked Uncle. He was just Marty grown up and become a very successful business man. There was the sallow skin, the brooding look which meant mischief when Marty had it, the same quick twitching frown. Not, however, the same flow of conversation, which was an