Free Beggar’s Choice by Patricia Wentworth Page B

you’ve given Bobby Markham a pretty dangerous hold over you. I don’t know an awful lot about him, but what I do know wouldn’t make me feel I should be safe in putting my reputation and—” I hesitated for a moment, and then I let her have it straight—“my liberty into his hands.”
    She looked at me between her wet black lashes and said,
    â€œWouldn’t it?”
    â€œNo, it wouldn’t—not by a long chalk.”
    She gave a nod, quite casual and careless.
    â€œOh, Bobby’s all right. He eats out of my hand.” Then she leaned forward and put her left hand on my knee. “What about you , Car?”
    â€œMe?” I couldn’t make out what she meant.
    â€œYes, you—you— you . I’ve put myself in Bobby’s power. Haven’t I put myself in yours? Bobby knows about the check. What about you? Don’t you know about it? If Bobby’s got a hold over me, haven’t you got one too?” She stared at me in the strangest way. “What about it, Car?”
    â€œI don’t know what you mean.” I said that, but of course it wasn’t really true. It had only just stopped being true though. You know how it is—what you’re thinking runs ahead of what you’re saying. The minute the words were out of my mouth I wished I hadn’t said them, because she laughed in my face.
    â€œHow plainly have I got to put it? You know enough to damn me if you choose to go to Uncle John with your knowledge. No, that’s too crude—you wouldn’t do that—would you?”
    â€œAm I to say ‘thank you’ for that?” I was very angry.
    â€œNo, you wouldn’t do that—you wouldn’t go to Uncle John. But if you met him, and he asked you, what would you do then? Would you give me away?” Her voice broke sharply in the middle of the last word.
    â€œYou mean if he asked me about the check? I haven’t seen him or heard from him for three years. Why should he ask me?”
    â€œI don’t know.” She sounded tired and bewildered. “I—don’t know. I—was—just—supposing. Would you give me away?”
    â€œWhat’s the good of supposing?”
    â€œCar— would you? I told you myself. It isn’t as if you had found it out. I told you. You couldn’t give away what I’d told you myself. Could you?”
    I put my hand on her arm. That was when I felt that the sleeve was wet.
    â€œWhat makes you think I’ll ever have the chance?”
    â€œOld men have fancies,” she said. Her arm shook. She leaned nearer. “Suppose he sent for you. Suppose he asked you questions. Suppose you saw your chance of outing me and coming back to your old place.” She wrenched her arm out of my hold and threw herself back against the half open door. “Oh, why did I tell you anything? Why was I such an utter, utter fool as to tell you?”
    She had been trying me pretty high all along, and my temper got the better of me.
    â€œWhat sort of damned cad do you take me for?” I got to my feet. “That’s about enough,” I said. “I’m going.”
    She jumped up and came to me with the tears running down her face.
    â€œCar—will you promise not to tell? Will you swear you won’t tell him what I told you? I’ll believe you if you promise.”
    I was too angry to say anything, and I suppose she thought I was hesitating, for she began to catch her breath and sob.
    â€œI only told you because I trusted you so. You can’t use what I told you because I trusted you.”
    I got hold of myself again, but I expect my voice was pretty rough.
    â€œI didn’t ask you to tell me anything. I wouldn’t have come within a hundred miles of this place if I’d had any idea of what you were going to tell me. But since you’ve known me all your life, I should think you’d have enough sense to know it