Here Blake broke in on him. He meant to probe Peggy's case thoroughly,
and knew that it would be no easy matter to get at the truth while
she had Red Mick alongside to prompt her. He had not dealt with the
mountain folk for nothing, and handled his clients in a way that
would astonish a more conservative practitioner.
"Mick," he said, "You go over to Isaacstein's store and wait till
I send for you."
"I want Mick to be wid me," began Peggy.
Blake blazed up. He knew that he must keep his ascendancy over
these wild people by force of determination.
"You heard what I said," he thundered, turning fiercely on Peggy.
"You want this and you want that! It's not what you want, it's what
I want! You do what you're told. If you don't--I won't help you.
Mick, you go over to the store, and wait till I send for you." And
Mick shambled off.
Peggy, still inclined to be defiant, settled herself in her chair.
She had battled in North Queensland so long that she neither feared
nor respected anybody; but her native shrewdness told her she had
all to gain and nothing to lose by doing what her lawyer advised.
"Now, Peggy," he said, "do you want to make a claim against William
Grant's estate?"
"Yis."
"On the ground that you're his widow?"
"Yis. I'll tell yer--"
"No, you won't tell me anything. I'll tell you. If you are to have
any hope of succeeding in this case, you must furnish me with the
name of the priest or parson who married you, the place where you
were married, and the date. It must be a real priest or parson, a
real place, and a real date. It's no use coming along with a story
of a marriage by a parson and you've forgotten his name, at a place
you can't remember where it was, and a date that's slipped your
memory. You must have a story to tell, and it must hold water. Now,
can you tell such a story? Have you got any proofs at all?"
Peggy shifted about uneasily.
"Can I see Mick?" she said.
"No, you can not. You must out with it here and now. Listen to me,
Peggy," he went on, sinking his voice suddenly and looking hard at
her. "I've got to know all about this. It's no use keeping anything
back. Were you ever married to William Grant?"
Peggy dropped her voice too.
"Yis. I was married twenty-five years ago at a place called Pike's
pub, out in the Never-never country."
"Who read the service, parson or priest?"
"Neither. A mish'nary. Mish'nary to the blacks."
"Is he alive?"
"No, he died out there. He was sick then, wid the Queensland fever."