"
"Do you realize that every day Peter Paul remains here is an added
opportunity for judge Ackroyd to make a million dollars, or a big
share of it, by some very simple stratagem?"
"I haven't admitted yet that I believe my uncle to be a--a
murderer," Miss Graham quietly reminded him.
"A strong word," said Average Jones smiling. "The law would hardly
support your view. Now, Miss Graham, would it grieve you very much
if Peter Paul were to die?"
"I won't have him put to death," said she quickly. "That would be,
cheating my grandmother's intentions."
"I supposed you wouldn't. Yet it would be the simplest way. Once
dead, and buried in accordance with the terms of the will, the dog
would be out of his troubles, and you would be out of yours."
"It would really be a relief. Peter Paul suffers so from asthma,
poor old beastie. The vet says he can live only a month or two
longer, anyway. But I've got to do as Grandmother wished, and keep
Peter Paul alive as long as possible."
"Admitted." Average Jones fell into a baffled silence, studying the
pattern of the rug with restless eyes.
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