Online generation training to make money

Online generation training to make money

"I always knew that you were clever at imitating handwriting, Freddy," said Agnes, while the two letters shook in her grasp, "we used to make a joke of it, I remember. But it was no joke when you altered that check Hubert gave you, and none when you imitated his signature to that mortgage about which he told me."

"I never—I never!" stammered the detected little scoundrel, holding on to a chair for support. "I never—"

"Spare me these lies," interrupted his sister scornfully, "Hubert showed the mortgage, when it came into his possession, to me. He admitted that his signature was legal to spare you, and also, for my sake, hushed up the affair of the check. He warned you against playing with fire, Freddy, and now you have done so again, to bring about his death."

"It's a damned lie."

"It's a damned truth," retorted Agnes fiercely. "I got you to write the letter to Mr. Jarwin so that I might compare the signature to the one in the forged letter. Agnes Pine in one and Agnes Pine in the other, both with the same twists and twirls—very, very like my signature and yet with a difference that I alone can detect. The postscript about the motor I asked you to write because the word occurs in the forged letter. Motor and motor—both the same."

"It's a lie," denied Garvington again. "I have not imitated your handwriting in the letter to Jarwin."

"You unconsciously imitated the signature, and you have written the word motor the same in both letters," said Agnes decisively. "I suddenly thought of your talent for writing like other people when Clara Greeby asked me to-day if I could guess who had forged the letter. I laid a trap for you and you have fallen into it. And you"—she took a step forward with fiery glance so that Garvington, retreating, nearly tumbled over a chair—"you laid a trap for Hubert into which he fell."

"I never did—I never did!" babbled Garvington, gray with fear.

"Yes, you did. I swear to it. Now I understand why you threatened to shoot any possible burglar who should come to The Manor. You learned, in some way, I don't know how, that Hubert was with the gypsies, and, knowing his jealous nature, you wrote this letter and let it fall into his hands, so that he might risk being shot as a robber and a thief."

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"I—I—I—didn't shoot him," panted the man brokenly.

"It was not for the want of trying. You broke his arm, and probably would have followed him out to inflict a mortal wound if your accomplice in the shrubbery had not been beforehand with you."

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"Agnes, I swear that I took Pine for a burglar, and I don't know who shot him. Really, I don't!"

"You liar!" said Agnes with intense scorn. "When you posted your accompl—"

She had no chance to finish the word, for Garvington broke in furiously and made a great effort to assert himself. "I had no accomplice. Who shot Pine I don't know. I never wrote the letter; I never lured him to his death; he was more good to me alive than dead. He never—"

"He was not more good to you alive than dead," interrupted Lady Agnes in her turn. "For Hubert despised you for the way in which you tried to trick him out of money. He thought you little better than a criminal, and only hushed up your wickedness for my sake. You would have got no more money out of him, and you know that much. By killing him you hoped that I would get the fortune and then you could plunder me at your leisure. Hubert was hard to manage, and you thought that I would be easy. Well, I have got the money and you have got rid of Hubert. But I shall punish you."