Make her think you are Hugh Ingelow, and she will enter it without
hesitation. Speak French. She will not recognize your voice. Once in the
carriage, carry her off."
"Where?" asked the doctor, astonished at the rapidity of all this.
"To Long Island--to the farm. She will be as safe there as in Sing Sing.
Make her think you are her unknown husband. It will be easily done, for
she half thinks it now. Only--look out for the strychnine!"
The doctor rose to his feet, his sallow face flushed, his small black
eyes sparkling.
"By Jove! Blanche, what a plotter you are! I'll do it, as sure as my
name's Guy. I love the little witch to madness, and I owe her one for
the way she jilted me. I'll do it, by thunder!"
"Very well," said Mrs. Walraven, quietly. "Don't get excited, and don't
make a noise. I knew you would."
"But what will the old lady say?"
"Who cares for the old lady?" retorted Mme. Blanche, contemptuously.
"Not you, I hope. Tell her it's an insane patient you have brought to
her for quiet and sea air. Judy is a regular dragon, and the old woman
is as keen as a ferret and as sly as a female fox.
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