"Can you control your hand?"
"Oh, yes, easily."
"Then you shall write the dear boy. As you say, it will be of immense
benefit to him."
Mr. Elliston drew forth from an inner pocket a book. Opening it he
tore out a leaf and placed it, with pencil, in the lap of the invalid
girl. It was not without difficulty that she controlled her hand
sufficiently to write.
Taking the folded note Elliston bade her good morning and passed from
the room. The moment he gained the street he tore the bit of paper to
fragments, a smile glinting over his face meantime.
"So much for that," he muttered. "Nell is about in the right trim for
removal, and I must not delay another day. Simple little thing! She
believed every word that I told her regarding the outcome of that
racket on Clark street. What an opinion she would have of me if she
knew the exact truth. I must get me to Gotham immediately. My funds
are running low, and SHE must replenish them. I haven't seen Aunt
Scarlet since the racket. I hope she got her quietus. I believe I have
had quite enough of her disinterested assistance; quite enough of it."
And yet the scheming gentleman was to receive more of the Clark street
hag's assistance in the future, and in a way that was not just exactly
pleasant, than he imagined.
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