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a smile. "Old man Briggerland lit his cigar standing on the steps of the house. That light was a brilliant one, Jaggs tells me. It was the signal for the car to come on. The next attempt was made with the assistance of a lunatic doctor who was helped to escape by Briggerland, and brought to your house by him. In some way he got hold of a key--probably Jean manoeuvred it. Did she ever talk to you about keys?" "No," said the girl, "she----" She stopped suddenly, remembering that Jean had discussed keys with her. "Are you sure she didn't?" asked Jack, watching her. "I think she may have done," said the girl defiantly; "what was the third attempt?" "The third attempt," said Jack slowly, "was to infect your bed with a malignant fever." "Jean did it?" said the girl incredulously. "Oh no, that would be impossible." "The child was in your bed. Jaggs saw it and threw two buckets of water over the bed, so that you should not sleep in it." She was silent. "And I suppose the next attempt was the shooting?" He nodded. "Now do you believe?" he asked. She shook her head. "No, I don't believe," she said quietly. "I think you have worked up a very strong case against poor Jean, and I am sure you think you're justified." "You are quite right there," he said. He lifted a pair of field glasses which he had put on the table, and surveyed the road from the sea. "Mrs. Meredith, I want you to do something and tell Jean Briggerland when you have done it." "What is that?" she asked. "I want you to make a will. I don't care where you leave your property, so long as it is not to somebody you love." She shivered. "I don't like making wills. It's so gruesome." "It will be more gruesome for you if you don't," he said significantly. "The Briggerlands are your heirs at law." She looked at him quickly. "So that is what you are aiming at? You think that all these plots are designed to put me out of the way so that they can enjoy my money?" He nodded, and she looked at him wonderingly. "If you weren't a hard-headed lawyer, I should think you were a writer of romantic fiction," she said. "But if it will please you I will make a will. I haven't the slightest idea who I could leave the money to. I've got rather a lot of money, haven't I?" "You have exactly L160,000 in hard cash. I want to talk to you about that," said Jack. "It is lying at your bankers in your current account. It represents property
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