Exactly three days after the arrival of Mr. Peter Tims at Emberton, and the discovery of his uncle's murder, the Right Honourable the Earl of Ashborough was sitting at his breakfast-table, in his house of Parmouth Hall, in the county of ----. It was a rainy morning, and over the whole face of the country there was a dim sort of ground-glass haze, which cut off all the far prospect from view, leaving even those objects that were near, nothing but an indistinct aspect of drippingness, not at all consolatory to those who had laid out their expeditions for the day. Though a very regular man in his habits, Lord Ashborough had a notion that fires were made to warm people, and that people might very well be cold in the beginning of October, so that, in addition to the glossy damask, and the splendid china, and the burnished silver, and all those other things, which, as we have before observed, make an English breakfast something far superior to any other meal eaten in any other place in the world, there was the bright and blazing fire in the polished grate, setting itself up in eternal opposition to the rain without.
At one end of the table sat the earl, with his whole person in high preservation, just as it came from the hands of his valet. At the other end sat Maria Beauchamp, his niece, in all the full blow of youth and beauty, fashion and good taste. By the side of Miss Beauchamp sat two gentlemen, the Honourable Colonel ----, and Mr. ----, whose names are not worth the trouble of writing, as I never intend to mention them again. Suffice it that they were guests of Lord Ashborough's; the first being a gentleman who, the noble lord thought, would do very well for his niece, and the second a gentleman who thought the noble lord's niece would do very well for him. Maria differed from both; and, in short, thought very little of the two personages at all; though the one poured a continual stream of idleness into her ear which amused her, and the other made love by being profoundly silent, which amused her as much.
"Either we have breakfasted early, or the post is late," said Lord Ashborough; and one of the other gentleman was replying something quite as significant, when a servant brought in the post-bag, and delivered it formally into his lordship's hands. Lord Ashborough immediately distributed the letters and newspapers; and as breakfast was by this time nearly over, and the after humdrum commencing, each gentleman put his letters in his pocket, and opened his newspaper.
"Hum!--Hum!" said the Colonel, running his eye over the columns--"Hum! Horrid murder! We will keep that for abonne bouche, I think. What are funds?"
"Hum!--Hum!" said Mr. ----. "Hum--Horrid murder!--Hum!--'Pon my honour, Colonel, the Draper has won the match against the Grand Signor!"
"Ha!" said Lord Ashborough, "Ha! The French, I see, have persuaded the English that they have not the slightest intention of keeping possession of Algiers--and the English believe them. Let us see what will be the case this time three years--Ha! Horrid murder! Good God!--his throat cut from ear to ear!--Let us see--Coroner's inquest--Wilful murder against--Why, Maria, here is a cousin of ours been committing murder!--He will be hung to a certainty, my love; and you will be obliged all the winter to wear deep mourning for his offences."
"And pray, sir, who is the gentleman?" demanded Miss Beauchamp. "You know I have so many cousins, and uncles, and such distant relations, that I cannot be expected to remember them all, even when one of them commits a murder."
"Oh! it is very possible, so careless a young lady may have forgot him!" replied Lord Ashborough, somewhat piqued at the tone of her answer; "but you have seen him within this month--It is Captain William Delaware--the son of the man at Emberton, who has been cutting the throat of an old miser at--at--at--a place called Ryebury--I think it is."
Miss Beauchamp turned very pale, but, without reply, raised the coffee-cup towards her lips. Ere it reached them, however, it dropped from her hand, and dashed some of the china to pieces by its fall, while the young lady herself sank back, fainting in her chair, much to the horror and consternation of every one present. Lord Ashborough started up, and advanced to his niece's assistance; Mr. ---- kneeled by her side, and supported her head; while Colonel ----, who was a tall stiff man, rose up, like the geni coming out of the copper vessel--that is to say, by degrees--and rang the bell.
Miss Beauchamp was conveyed speedily to her own room; and the excellent Colonel exclaimed, "Why, Ashborough, this murder which your cousin has committed, seems to affect Miss Beauchamp more than yourself!"
"I had forgot," replied Lord Ashborough, "that she and her brother were almost brought up with those Delawares in their childhood. As to myself, the matter does not affect me at all, Colonel--I always thought that some catastrophe of the kind would take place. The father--who was both at school and at college with me--was always one of those violent, ruthless, unprincipled men, on whose conduct you could never calculate; and as he was generally in scrapes and difficulties, you know, temptation might assail him at any moment. The son seemed, from the little I have ever seen of him, a boy of the same disposition. Heaven knows," he added, with an air of modest candour, "I acted in as liberal a manner as possible towards them! It was only the other day that I accepted a mere trifle, in lieu of an annuity of two thousand a-year which I held, payable upon their estates."
"Scamps!" said the Colonel, walking towards the window. "One never makes any thing of scamps. When one has any poor relations--and I suppose every one has some--the best way is to cut them at once--one never makes any thing of scamps!"
"Mr. Tims, my lord, waiting in the library," said a servant entering, just as the Colonel concluded his sensible, comprehensive, and charitable observation.
"Not the ghost of the murdered man, I hope!" cried Mr. ----, who had been reading the report of the coroner's inquest.
"No; but the body of his nephew, I suppose," replied Lord Ashborough. "You had better try the billiard-room, gentlemen, as the day is so bad;" and he proceeded to the library, where he was awaited by Mr. Peter Tims, dressed in what the newspapers call a suit of decent mourning, with a countenance made to match, according to the tailor's term.
Lord Ashborough nodded, and Mr. Tims bowed low as they met; and the peer, letting himself sink into an easy-chair, began the conversation by saying, "I suppose, Mr. Tims, I must condole with you on your uncle's death?"
"I have much need of condolence on many accounts, my lord," replied the lawyer; "but I have one happiness, which is, that while your lordship is pleased to condole with your humble servant, he has an opportunity of congratulating you."
"Why, indeed, things seem to have turned out luckily," replied Lord Ashborough; "but I am not yet half informed of what has occurred--all I know is from a brief account in the newspapers.
"If your lordship is at liberty," said the lawyer, "I will explain the whole;" and he forthwith set to work, and recounted all the principal events which had happened, since he last left Lord Ashborough; contriving, however, to take almost as much credit to himself for all that had happened, as if he had cut his uncle's throat himself, on purpose to ruin the family of Sir Sidney Delaware.
Lord Ashborough listened, and smiled with triumph, as Mr. Tims, pandering to his malignity, dwelt upon the agony of Sir Sidney Delaware, and the pain and shame of his gallant son--upon the inevitable ruin that must overtake their whole race--and upon the probable consequences to the unfortunate baronet's health. The smile, however, soon faded away; and, strange to say, that though hatred to Sir Sidney Delaware had been the predominant passion of Lord Ashborough's existence, though the knowledge that he was leading a life of comparative poverty, had been one of his greatest pleasures; and the hope of ruining him utterly, an object that the earl had never lost sight of--yet now that it was all accomplished--that it was done--that he was trodden under his feet, and presented to his eyes, heartbroken and desolate, ruined and disgraced, the joy passed away in that evanescent smile of triumph--the delight lasted but a moment, and left a vacancy in his desires.
Why it was so, we cannot be called upon to prove. It is a fact in the heart's natural history, and that is all that we have to do with it. It might be, indeed, that Othello's occupation was gone; and that Lord Ashborough, in accomplishing his purpose, had dried up a source of thought and gratification. It might be, that he was like Bruce at the fountains of the Nile--that all which had lured him on, through a dangerous and intricate way, was obtained; and that he had nothing to lead him farther, or to guide him back. It might be that, as usual, conscience took advantage of the sudden lassitude of satiety, to smite the heart, for the very gratifications that were palling upon the appetite.
"Well, Mr. Tims! Well!" he said at length. "All this is very fortunate. But, pray, may I ask how is it that you lay claim to so much subject of condolence? If I have understood you right, your uncle's death could be no matter of very inconsolable grief to you--though, doubtless, you might have preferred another manner."
"No, my lord, no!" replied Mr. Tims. "It is not that at all. He was an old man--a very old man--one would have thought that death had forgot him--and, to tell the truth, it was perhaps as well for him to die a quick as a lingering death; and I hear, when the carotid artery is cut, as it was in his case, a man cannot suffer above a second or two. But as I was saying, my lord, it was not either of his death or of the manner that I was thinking, but the murderer must have carried away full twelve thousand pounds in money, besides the sum destined to pay your lordship's note"----
"Which, by the way, I hope you have paid into the hands of my banker?" interrupted Lord Ashborough, whose first thought was, of course, of himself.
"Why, not yet, my lord--not yet!" replied the attorney. "The law has yet to decide to whom it belongs, my lord."
"How, sir!" cried Lord Ashborough, reddening, "To whom can it belong but to me? Was it not paid to you on my account?"
"Beg pardon, my lord! Beg pardon!" replied Mr. Tims. "But, whichever way it goes, your lordship cannot be a loser. If it be proved, as it can be proved, that the money was stolen from my uncle, the payment to you of course is null, and the money belongs to me, as sole heir of the late Mr. Tims of Ryebury. But then, my lord--hear me, my lord, I beg--the whole transaction with Sir Sidney Delaware is null also, and you will be able to recover at common law!"
Lord Ashborough's face again lighted up, and it is very possible that the thought of pursuing his game still farther, and hunting it to the death, might add not a little to his placability. "We must have counsel's opinion as to the best means to be employed," he said. "This young ruffian, you tell me, has escaped, and of course the prosecution must drop, unless he can be apprehended."
"Oh no, my lord, no!" answered Mr. Tims. "That does not follow at all--there are indeed various modes of proceeding, on which it would be advisable to consult some common law barrister; but, in the mean time, the money is quite secure--so much so, indeed, that if your lordship likes it to be paid into your bankers"----
"Why, Mr. Tims," said Lord Ashborough, thoughtfully. "I think it might be as well, you know."
"Well, my lord, I am quite ready to do so," answered the lawyer, "on your making over to me your claims against Sir Sidney Delaware, and his estate of Emberton."
Lord Ashborough started, "No, no!" he cried. "No!--at all events, we will speak of that hereafter. Cannot a bill of outlawry be pursued against this young man--and ought he not to be dismissed from his Majesty's service? I have a great mind to return to town, and see about the whole business, Mr. Tims. I dare say, I can get rid of these two men who are staying here, by the day after to-morrow; and, in the mean time, you had better go back to Emberton, and urge the pursuit as actively as possible. It is not probable that he can have got out of the country so soon! Why do you not send for officers from Bow Street?"
"They are already on the scent, my lord," replied the man of law; "and I doubt not that they will catch him ere he gets far. Murder is a crime which all civilized nations will agree in punishing--and as to the money, my lord"----
"Oh, I doubt not it is safe! I doubt not it is safe!" replied Lord Ashborough, "When I come to town, we must take counsel as to the best method of recovering it, as speedily as possible, from Sir Sidney Delaware."
"Oh, it is quite safe, depend on it!" answered Mr. Tims, "I was only going to say, that I am likely to be the only loser in this business; as the twelve thousand pounds are, I am afraid, lost for ever."
"I hope not, Mr. Tims, I hope not!" replied the earl; "and if they be, we must endeavour to make it up to you, some other way. I do not of course mean to say, that I can take upon me to pay the money, as you see I am likely to be a loser by the whole transaction myself."
"I think not, my lord, indeed," replied the lawyer. "Beg your lordships pardon; but I think you are likely to be a great gainer."
"How so, sir?" demanded the peer with open eyes. "I gain nothing, and lose at least the law expenses."
"Why, my lord," replied the lawyer, "I think in default of issue-male, on the part of Sir Sidney Delaware, you stand next in the entail; now, if we can convict this young man who has committed the murder, you of course succeed."
"Ay! but suppose we cannot catch him," cried the earl, his face brightening at the thoughts of the reversion.
"Perhaps we can do without, my lord," answered Mr. Tims. "I am much mistaken if, upon due cause, the law, deprived of the power of dealing real death, will not pronounce a criminal legally dead; and I think that were I certain I should not be a loser, I could bring forward a sufficient case to ensure that result."
"Mr. Tims," said Lord Ashborough solemnly, laying his hand with a dignified gesture upon a book that lay before him. "Mr. Tims, I can assure you, that no one who wishes me well shall ever lose a farthing by me. I think you must know the fine--I might say the fastidious--sense of honour which I entertain, and I promise you upon my word, that if you succeed in carrying through the very just and reasonable design you propose, and establish me as heir of entail to the Emberton property, I will make you full compensation for whatever loss you may have sustained in the course of this business."
"Say no more, my lord! Say no more!" replied Mr. Tims. "We will find means either to catch and hang him at once, or to cut him off from performing any legal act; and in the mean time--as life is always uncertain--I will, with your lordship's permission, draw up a little document for your lordship to sign, purporting that you will, on your succession to the Emberton estate, indemnify me for the losses I have sustained, by the robbery of my uncle's house."
Already Lord Ashborough began to repent of his liberal promise, and to consider whether he could not have done quite as well without the agency of Mr. Tims; but, as it appeared that the chief proofs of Captain Delaware's guilt were in the lawyer's hands, he thought it better to adhere strictly to his engagement, and therefore signified his assent.
"Of course, my lord," continued the lawyer, "you will find it necessary to proceed against Sir Sidney Delaware immediately, either at common law for the recovery of the sum agreed to be paid by bill, and which cannot be considered as paid, the money wherewith it was satisfied having been stolen; or else to proceed by petition in the Court of Chancery, in order to recover possession of the original annuity deed, the authenticated copy of which is in my possession, praying also that the rents of the Emberton estate may be paid into court, till such time as judgment be pronounced."
The lawyer spoke these hard purposes in a tone of significance, which would have been an insult to any one with whose inmost thoughts he was not so well acquainted as he was with those of Lord Ashborough; but the earl heard him with a meaning smile, and replied, "Why really, Mr. Tims, you seem inclined to be rather hardhearted towards this Sir Sidney Delaware."
"Your lordship would not have me very tender towards a man whose son has murdered my only relation," replied the lawyer; "and besides, law has nothing to do with tenderness; and as your lordship's agent, I am bound to suggest what I think the best legal means of protecting your interests."
"Certainly, certainly!" answered the earl. "Far be it from me to blame you, my good sir. Follow which plan you judge best--both if you please!"
"Both be it then, my lord!" replied Mr. Tims, rubbing his hands at the interminable prospect which the case held out, of pleas and papers without end--an universe of parchment, and a heaven of red tape. "Both be it then, my lord!--There is not the slightest reason that we should not proceed in both courts at once, to make all sure; and if, before two months are over. Sir Sidney Delaware be not as completely beggared as ever man was, the English law will be very much changed--that is all that I can say.--Unless, indeed," he added thoughtfully, "your lordship's worthy nephew come to his aid--marry Miss Delaware, and advance money to defend her father."
"No fear! No fear!" replied Lord Ashborough. "He will not marry her, depend upon it."
"Why, my lord, I am afraid," said Mr. Tims; "that is to say, I have heard it very strongly reported in Emberton, that he did propose to Miss Delaware, and that she refused him, not knowing who he was. She and her father are now staying with the lady at whose house she first met Mr. Beauchamp; they are very likely to meet again--he to declare his real name, and she to accept him; for you may imagine, after all that has happened, she will be glad enough to get married at all--and you know how romantic he is in some things, though he strives to hide it."
"You are mistaken, Mr. Tims!" said Lord Ashborough. "What has happened will make her persist in her refusal more steadily than ever."
Though hating Sir Sidney Delaware and his whole family with the bitterest enmity. Lord Ashborough knew them well, and understood the principles upon which they acted--for the basest heart will sometimes, in a great degree, appreciate a more noble one. This appreciation, however, is never candidly admitted, even to the heart itself; and while, from a secret conviction of the truth, it often calculates justly the results--comprehends in a moment what will be the effect of particular circumstances--and makes use of that knowledge for its own selfish purposes--it is sure to attribute all good actions to base and mean motives, even in its own secret thoughts, and to give them false and evil names in conversation with others.
"No, no, Mr. Tims!" he said, "What has happened will make her refuse him more steadily than ever, if she have a drop of her father's blood in her veins. I know those Delawares well, and their cursed pride, which they fancy to be fine feeling and generous sentiment. If it were to save her father and her whole family from destruction, depend upon it, she would not marry any man while she thought that her brother's infamy was to be a part of her dowery.--I might say her only dowery; for I suppose the pittance she had from her mother has been swallowed up long ago. No, no! all is very safe there. Maria, who has heard a good deal about her from her brother's old tutor, let me unwittingly into the secret, that she is her father over again in those respects; but sting her irritable pride, and you can make her do any thing."
"Well, my lord, well!" said Mr. Tims. "If your lordship be sure, I, of course, have nothing to say. Only, I cannot understand any woman refusing a gentleman of Mr. Beauchamp's present wealth and future expectations. I cannot understand it, indeed!"
"I dare say not!" replied Lord Ashborough drily. "But in the meanwhile, Mr. Tims, I think you had better return to Emberton to-night. It is not much above thirty miles. Proceed as earnestly as possible against the son, and after putting matters in train there, come up and meet me in London on Monday next."
"At the same time, my lord," said the lawyer, "I will serve all the tenants with notice not to pay their rents to Sir Sidney Delaware;" and this being agreed to with a smile. Lord Ashborough rejoined his guests, and Mr. Tims proceeded to hold a serious consultation with the housekeeper, over a cold pasty and a glass of sherry, ere he once more set out for Emberton.
Now, the very same character might be given of Mr. Peter Tims of Clement's Inn, attorney-at-law, as that which Voltaire, in hisDiscours à l'Academie, gives of the President de Montesquieu--"C'etoit un génie mâle et rapide qui aprofondit tout en paraissant tout effleurer;" and in several of his late conversations with Lord Ashborough, he had penetrated into the depths of that nobleman's thoughts and feelings, while he seemed to give explicit credit to his lightest words. He saw, therefore, that there were two strong principles which worked the whole machine; the chief springs, as it were, of all his lordship's conduct, at least on the present occasion. The one of these principles was, it is true, a little stronger than the other; and the two were, revenge and avarice; the latter succumbing somewhat to the former, but both at present working very well together.
There are certain classes of passions and vices which people often find an excuse for indulging, by persuading themselves that they are invariably connected with some great or noble feeling or other. Now, of this character is revenge, which men are apt to fancy must be the offspring of a generous and vehement heart, and a fine, determined, sensitive mind. But this is all a mistake. Revenge, in the abstract, is merely a prolongation throughout a greater space in time, of that base selfishness which leads us to feel a momentary impulse to strike any thing that hurts or pains us either mentally or corporeally; and the more brutal, and animal, and beastlike be the character of the person, the greater will be his disposition to revenge. But we must speak one moment upon its modifications. Revenge always proceeds either from a sense of real injury, or a feeling of wounded vanity. It seldom, however, arises from any real injury; and where it does, it would, (if possible to justify it at all,) be more justifiable; but, in this modification, a corrective is often found in the great mover of man's heart; and vanity itself whispers, it will seem nobler and more generous to forgive. The more ordinary species of revenge, however, and the more filthy, is that which proceeds from wounded vanity--when our pride or our conceit has been greatly hurt--not alone in the eyes of the world, but in our own eyes--when the little internal idol that we have set up to worship in our own hearts, has been pulled down from the throne of our idolatry, and we have been painfully shown that it is nothing but a thing of gilt wood. Then, indeed, revenge, supported by the great mover of man's heart, instead of being corrected by it, is insatiable and everlasting. But in all cases, instead of being connected with any great quality, it is the fruit of a narrow mind, and a vain selfish heart.
The latter of the two modifications was that which affected Lord Ashborough, and it had remained with him through life; but Mr. Tims very evidently saw, that as soon as his lordship imagined his revenge to have nothing left to feed upon, it of course became extinct; and that his own employment at least, in any very extensive business, as far as Lord Ashborough was concerned, would be at an end. The avarice, too, would come into play; and the worthy lawyer perceived that it was necessary to keep alive his appetite for vengeance, and at the same time to take care that his admirable patron's avarice should be broken in to run in harness with his own.
These were his motives for suggesting the course of proceeding which he had insinuated might be pursued, although he felt very doubtful as to the legal possibility of carrying on the matter exactly as prosperously as he had taught his patron to believe. At all events, he felt that this was his best chance, not only of keeping possession of the money he had already got, but of obtaining the twelve thousand pounds more, which, together with the rest of his uncle's property, he felt would raise him to a station in society in which he might--not pause but--make more still.
After satisfying the cravings of hunger, therefore, and thinking that the time might soon come when the earl himself would find it necessary to treat him with more attention, Mr. Tims got into his chaise, humming the chorus of the Little Ploughboy--
"So great a man--so great a man--so great a man I'll be!"
And once more rolled away towards Emberton, resolved instantly to see Sir Sidney Delaware, and to embroil the whole affair as much as possible.
His clerk had been left behind at the little town to take care of the business during his absence; and although it was late ere the lawyer returned, he instantly set him to work to prepare notices to all the tenants of Sir Sidney Delaware not to pay their rents. This he knew was a bold stroke; but looking upon the unhappy baronet as an enemy in time of war, he knew that one great object was to cut off his supplies. Early the next morning Mr. Tims sallied forth to make a general round of the tenants, and proceeded to a farmhouse, from the crowded stackyard and busy aspect of which he argued a large and prosperous farm. The farmer himself appeared superintending the thatching in the yard; and Mr. Tims, notice in hand, stepped up to him, and informed him of his business.
As the honest man read, his mouth expanded wide across his rosy face, with a grin of satisfaction, which Mr. Tims remarked as something extraordinary at least. "Sorry, sir, I can't oblige you!" said the farmer, eyeing him with a look of merry contempt. "I paid my rent to Sir Sidney yesterday morning. I thought just now--as he is in trouble I hear with some bit of a blackguard lawyer of the name of Tims--he might want the money, you know. So I took it up to the good lady's house where he is stopping, seeing it was due on the twenty-fifth o' last month."
"Oh, you have paid it, have you?" said Mr. Tims. "Then I can tell you, most likely you will have it to pay over again."
"Pay it over again!" cried the farmer, who easily divined who the person was that spoke to him. "Pay it over again! Come, come, none of your gammon, master, or I'll break your head for you, and that is all the payment you'll get from me. Who should I pay my rent to but my own landlord? and a good landlord he has always been, and a kind--never racked us up to the last farthing, like some o' them, though he wanted the money enough himself. I'll tell you what, you had better not say a word against him or his--and if you be one of Lawyer Tims's clerks, bid him not show his face among us here, or he'll get such a licking as will serve him for a long while."
While this conversation was proceeding between Mr. Peter Tims and the farmer, a considerable number of the farm-servants had gathered round their master, and very unequivocal signs and symptoms were given as to their sense of the matter. Various words, too, were heard, which sounded harsh upon the tympanum of Peter Tims's ear, such as--"I shouldn't wonder if it were Lawyer Tims himself--A looks like a lawyer--let's duck um in the horsepond--or cart him into the muck."
Now Peter Tims was, in a certain degree, a coward; and although he could have made up his mind to be knocked down by the farmer for the sake of a good assault case; yet the idea of being "ducked in the horsepond, or carted into the muck," by a body of persons who could not afford to pay a sous for their morning's amusement, made him beat a retreat as fast as possible.
Although Mr. Peter Tims proceededseriatimto each of the tenants on the Emberton estate, it may be unnecessary to detail the particulars of the various receptions he met with. Suffice it, that he found that in one respect they all agreed, which was, that their rent, by a general arrangement between them, had been paid up the day before, which, though the money was really due, was about ten days before the usual time. Although he occasionally met with a somewhat rough reception, and declared that he had never seen a more rude and uncivil set of people in his life, yet he escaped without any actual violence; and in the end, hoping to gain at least some ground, he determined to make his last visit to Sir Sidney Delaware himself.
Accustomed to do disagreeable things of all kinds, Mr. Tims had as little respect for human feelings as most men; but still there was something in his peculiar situation with regard to Sir Sidney Delaware, that in some degree awed even his worldly heart. He was going to force himself into the presence of a man, whose destruction he was pursuing eagerly, on the most base and sordid motives. That, however, was nothing new; but we must recollect that Mr. Tims really supposed the son of him he was about to visit, had murdered in cold blood his last relation; and, with that belief, there mingled both the internal conviction that his own arts had driven the unfortunate young man to commit the horrid deed which had been perpetrated at Ryebury, and the remembrance that he himself, Peter Tims, was even then straining every nerve to bring to an ignominious death, him whom his machinations had hurried into the most fearful of human crimes, and whose father he was still urging onward to ruin and despair. All these feelings and remembrances made the business very different from any he had before undertaken, and the lawyer's heart even, fluttered as the chaise drove through the gates of the dwelling now occupied by Mrs. Darlington. "It is odd enough," he thought, "that my delaying the payment of the money should have caused my uncle's murder. Now, if I were superstitious, I should take fright and not follow this business up, for fear it should turn out ill likewise--but that is all nonsense;" and when the chaise stopped, and a servant appeared, he boldly demanded to speak with Sir Sidney Delaware.
"Sir Sidney Delaware is not here, sir!" replied the man abruptly.
"Not here!" cried Mr. Tims. "Not here! And pray, where is he then?"
"Can't tell, sir!" replied the man.
"But he was here?" rejoined the lawyer.
"Oh yes, sir, he was here!" was the reply.
"When did he go?"
"Yesterday."
"Where to?"
"I don't know."
"Is your mistress at home?" demanded Mr. Tims at length, finding that there was nothing to be made of the footman. The answer was in the affirmative; and Mr. Peter Tims was shown into an empty room, where the servant took the precaution of demanding his name, and then went to inform his mistress. After remaining for some time in expectation, Mr. Tims was rejoined by the servant; but, instead of ushering the lawyer to Mrs. Darlington's presence, he said, with a grave and solemn aspect, "Sir, my mistress bids me inform you that she is busy at present, and cannot receive you."
"Oh, if she be busy, I can wait!" answered Mr. Tims, relapsing determinedly into his chair.
"You may wait all day for that matter," replied the man, losing patience; "for I can tell you, she does not intend to see you at all. So now, you have the plain English of it!"
"Very extraordinary conduct, I must say!" observed Mr. Tims, as with slow and indignant steps he walked towards his chaise.
"And pray, are you really ignorant of Sir Sidney Delaware's present abode?" he added, after having insinuated his hand into his pocket, and drawn forth a broad silver piece, which he thought fully sufficient to tempt the discretion of any Johnny, even if he were as immaculate as Eve before the fall.
But the servant either would not tell, or could not, because he did not know: the latter of which was the most probable, as he answered sharply, as if angry at losing the money through his ignorance, "You have had your answer once, sir," he said, "and I shall give you no other;" and, with this ungracious reply, Mr. Tims was obliged to content himself.
The chaise rolled him back hungry and dissatisfied to Emberton, where the tidings he had so often before received, that the pursuit of Captain Delaware had not advanced a single step, did not tend to relieve him. He found, too, that Sir Sidney and Miss Delaware had certainly not returned to their own dwelling, and his enquiry in regard to whither they had gone when they left Mrs. Darlington's, only served to make the people of the town open wide their nostrils, showing plainly that the baronet's departure must have been secret indeed, as it had escaped the all-enquiring eyes and ears of that gossiping community.
If any thing could have soothed the mind of Mr. Tims, it would have been, perhaps, the profound respect of the landlord of the King's Arms--he, Mr. Tims, being in no degree insensible to the charms of importance and high station, and enjoying the homage of mine host, as a sort of foretaste of the increased consequence he was to possess in society, from his accession to his unfortunate uncle's ill-gotten wealth.
His dinner comforted him also greatly; and when, after that meal was discussed, the landlord presented himself in person to ask, whether he might not recommend his admirable port, Mr. Tims, after an internal struggle, acquiesced, and the wine was accordingly produced.
"Pray, landlord," said the lawyer, after a few words of innkeeper gossip had passed, while with a clean napkin he rubbed the outside of the decanter. "Pray, who was that gentleman standing at the door as I got out, who stared at me so hard? The gentleman in the black coat and gray trowsers."
"Oh, sir!" replied mine host of the King's Arms, "Don't you know?--That is Mr. Cousins, the officer from London, come to enquire into this sad business!"
"Why, Ruthven was sent for, and came too; for I saw and spoke to him long!" ejaculated Mr. Tims in some surprise.
"True, sir! True!" replied the landlord. "But Ruthven was sent after the captain, you know; and Dr. Wilton thought it would be better to have some one else down to keep about the place; so Cousins was sent for, and has been here all day--that is to say, about the place; for he was both up at Emberton and at Ryebury, I heard the waiter saying."
"At Emberton!" cried Mr. Tims; "Then, I dare say, he can tell me something of the people there. Will you have the goodness to present my compliments to him, and say, I should be happy if he will take a glass of wine with me?"
"Certainly, sir! Certainly!" replied the landlord; and away he went in ambassage to Cousins, who soon after was ushered into the private room occupied by Peter Tims, Esq.
He was--or rather is--neither a very tall nor a very stout man; but yet, in the various points of his frame, there is a good deal of solid strength to be remarked; and in his face, which is pale and somewhat saturnine, Mr. Tims thought he could trace a great deal of resolution, mingled with that shrewd knowledge of human nature in its most debased form, which is at once necessary to, and inseparable from, the character of an officer of police. The lawyer, seeing that the officer was a very gentlemanly person in his appearance, soon made sufficient advances; and, being seated together over their wine, Mr. Tims enquired whether his companion had heard anything of the family at Emberton.
"No!--No!" he said, in a tone which appeared habitually guarded against all enquiries, except from those authorized to squeeze the contents out of the spunge of his mind. "No!--No!" he said. "I have heard nothing of them at all!"
"Come, come now, Mr. Cousins!" said the lawyer, who well entered into the spirit of the wariness displayed by his companion, "You know I am interested in this business!"
"Yes, so I hear, sir," replied Cousins, without a word more.
"Well, well, then, be a little more communicative, Mr. Cousins," rejoined the lawyer. "Did you see any of the family at the park?"
"No!" answered the officer; "They were all away!"
"But did not the old woman--the housekeeper--or cook--or something--tell you where they had gone to?" demanded the lawyer.
"There was no old housekeeper there," answered the officer. "They were all away together, and the house shut up."
Mr. Tims was beaten out of his impassibility, and absolutely stared. "But surely you know where they are gone to--or, at least, you guess?" he said, after a pause.
"Why, I may guess to be sure," replied Cousins; "but that is nothing to nobody, you know. If one were to tell every thing they guess, sir, not one-half of their guesses would come true!"
Mr. Tims paused for a minute or two, seeing that, for some reason, Cousins was resolute in not saying a word upon the affairs of Sir Sidney Delaware; and therefore, like a good tactician, finding the enemy's position impregnable in front, he determined to shift his ground, and make the attack from another quarter. "You have been, I hear, at my poor unhappy uncle's place at Ryebury, too?" said Mr. Tims, at length. "Did you make any new discoveries? Fill your glass, Mr. Cousins."
"None that I know of, sir," replied Cousins, answering the question and obeying the command at the same time. "The house was just as it was left, I fancy."
"But did you find nothing that might lead to the detection of the murderer?" said Mr. Tims.
"Why, sir, I understood that you had detected the murderer yourself," answered the officer; "and that his name was Captain William Delaware."
"Yes, yes! that is all true enough," rejoined the lawyer; "but I mean, did you find no new proof against him?"
"Why, as to that, sir, I did not find any in particular," replied Cousins. "Indeed, the only thing of which I found any positive proof at all, was, that somebody had been murdered."
"The man is a fool!" thought Mr. Peter Tims--"A natural!" But yet there was a small, twinkling, subdued sort of fun lurking about the corners of Cousins's dark eyes, that caused the lawyer strongly to suspect that the officer was making a jest of him, and he consequently found himself waxing vastly indignant. His anger, however, led him into no extravagance; and, after having put a variety of other questions to his companion, who did not choose to give a straightforward answer to any of them, his wrath assumed the form of sullen silence, which he expected would soon be received as a hint to retire.
In this he was mistaken. Cousins remained with outstretched feet and emulative silence, filling his glass unbidden, with a fond reliance on the generosity of the lawyer's disposition, for all which he was heartily given to the devil, full a dozen times within the next half hour. At the end of that period, the landlord again appeared at the door, and gave Mr. Cousins a nod. The officer immediately started upon his feet, and wishing Mr. Tims good-night, with many thanks for his kind condescension, he followed mine host out of the room.
Leaving Mr. Tims to meditate for half an hour, and then to call his clerk, in order to proceed with business of various kinds, we must follow Cousins, the officer, along the passage, down the six steps at the end, up the six steps opposite, and thence into another room, larger and more handsomely furnished, in a different part of the house. As he entered, the whole demeanour of the officer was as completely changed as it is possible to imagine; and, instead of the easy and nonchalant, perhaps somewhat listless air, which had overspread him in the presence of the attorney, he entered the chamber to which he had been summoned with a look of brisk activity, mingled with respect, which strangely altered his whole appearance. The character of the persons before whom he now presented himself, might easily account for the change; for the officer was too well acquainted with all ranks and stations of men, and too much accustomed to suit his conduct to his company, not to make the most marked difference in his demeanour towards a low attorney and towards two men of so much respectability as Dr. Wilton and Mr. Egerton. Neither of those two gentlemen, it is true, could be considered as so wealthy as Mr. Tims had lately become; but, thank God! wealth--notwithstanding all its efforts to confound itself with respectability, has not yet been able to do so entirely, even in the eyes of the vulgar.
The two magistrates were sitting together after dinner; but glasses and decanters had been removed, a clerk called in, and each had his bundle of notes before him. Cousins bowed respectfully, and advanced to the end of the table, but no farther; while Dr. Wilton--who, as the reader may have remarked, had been quite bewildered and overcome during the examination of William Delaware--having now resumed all that quick and active intelligence which was the ordinary characteristic of his mind, proceeded to question the officer as to the result of his investigations during the morning.
"Well, Cousins," he said, "you went to Ryebury, of course? Did you examine accurately the footmarks that I mentioned to you?"
"Not those in the garden, sir," replied the officer, with a countenance now full of quick intelligence; "because you see, sir, it was very evident that such a number of people had been there since the murder, that there was no use; for we could not have distinguished one from the other; but I went up into the room where it had been done, and there the matter was clear enough."
"Ha!" said Mr. Egerton. "And what did you make out there? I saw nothing but a pool of blood flowing from the dead body."
"I beg your worship's pardon," answered the officer; "but you are mistaken there. As far as I could make out, it must have been done by two men--I don't mean to say, mind, that there were not three; but if there were, the other never stepped in the blood; but two there were certainly; for I got the tread of one very near whole--that is to say, the round of his boot heel, and more than three inches of the toe from the tip backwards--so that one of them had a remarkable long foot. There is the measure and shape of it, as far as I could get it--more than twelve inches, you see, sir."
"And the other!" said Dr. Wilton, "the other man's foot--what was the length of it?"
"Ah! sir, that I could not get at!" replied the officer. "There was nothing but about five inches of the fore part of the sole; but that I got twice; and it is as different a foot, you see, from the other as one would wish to find. Twice as broad, and square-toed; and then I got the mark of a hand, too, which must have been at the poor old devil's throat when they were cutting it, for it was all blood. It had rested on the cornice of the dado; and the fellow, whoever he was, wanted part of the third finger of his left hand."
"Ha, that is a good fact!" said Dr. Wilton eagerly; "but how did you make that out, Cousins?"
"Why, sir, because it marked all the way up, but left off suddenly before it got to the end," answered the officer.
"But might not that finger have been bent?" said Mr. Egerton.
"Not unless it bent in the middle of the second joint," replied Cousins; "but the matter was quite clear, sir; and one has nothing to do but look at it to satisfy themselves that a part of the finger was wanting; and what is oddest of all, that it has not been taken off at the joint. All I saw besides was, that the fellow who cut the old man's throat, must have gone away with his pantaloons very bloody; for he did it kneeling, and there is just a clear spot where his knee and part of his leg kept the blood from going over the floor."
"Indeed! That may serve some purpose, too!" said Dr. Wilton; "but did you find no more steps or marks of any other person."
"Oh, plenty of steps, sir!" replied the officer. "There were all the dirty feet of the coroner's inquest. But I think--though I'm not quite so sure of that--that there must have been somebody left below to keep watch, while the others went up to do the job. You see, sir, there is in one place of the passage floor a fresh deal, and I can trace upon that deal the marks of a shoe with large nails in it, going backwards and forwards, the matter of twenty times. Now, I hear that the deal was put in not a week ago, and all the folks here agree, that the old man never let a person with nails in his shoes twenty times into his house in all his life; so it looks like as if that were the only time and way in which it could get so often marked."
The two magistrates looked at each other, and Mr. Egerton answered, "Your suspicion is a shrewd one. Cousins; but now, tell us sincerely, from all that you have seen and heard, do you think that Captain Delaware has been one of those concerned?"
"Why really, sir, Icannotsay!" answered the officer; "but to tell the truth--though there is no knowing after all--nevertheless--not to speak for a certainty, you know--but still, I should think not."
"You are now speaking to us in confidence, you know, Cousins," said Dr. Wilton; "and, indeed, we are altogether acting extra-officially in regard to the murder, though we think it may connect itself with the other affair. Tell us, therefore, why you judge it was not Captain Delaware."
"Why, sir, that is difficult to say," replied the officer. "But first and foremost, do you see, it strikes me that the job was done by as knowing a hand as ever was on the lay--one that has had a regular apprenticeship like. Well, as far as I can hear, that does not match the Captain. Then, next, whoever did it, has got in upon the sly, by means of the girl, whether she be an accessory or not. At all events, she has gone off with her 'complices.--She's never murdered--never a bit of her, take my word for that! Then you see, sir, when I had done with Ryebury, I went away to Emberton Park House; and though there was a mighty fuss to get in, all the family being gone, yet I managed it at last, and got a whole heap of the Captain's old boots and shoes, and measured them with the footmarks, and on oath I could prove that none of them--neither those up, nor those down stairs--the marks I mean--ever came off his foot."
"Why, it would seem to me, that what you have said, would go very far to exculpate him altogether," said Dr. Wilton.
"Ay, sir! But that is a mighty rum story about the notes," answered the officer. "It would make a queer case for the 'sizes, any how. Nevertheless, I don't think him guilty; and if he would explain about the money, all would be clear enough--but that story of his won't go; and if he sticks to it and is caught, he'll be hang'd if Judge ----tries him. He'll get off if it come before Sir ----. He did well enough to slip his head out of the collar any way."
"But do you not think that Ruthven will catch him then?" demanded Dr. Wilton, with no small anxiety.
"Why, not near so easy as if he were an old thief," replied the officer; "for you see, sir, we know all their haunts, and where they'll take to in a minute, while this young chap may go Lord knows where!"
Both the magistrates paused thoughtfully for a minute or two, and at length Dr. Wilton went on; "You see Cousins the fact is this, that the coroner having issued his warrant against Captain Delaware, our straightforward duty as magistrates is to use all means to put that warrant in execution; and we are neither called upon, nor have we perhaps a strict legal right, after a verdict has been pronounced, to seek for evidence in favour of the person against whom that verdict has been given. At the same time, we are blamed for not committing the prisoner at once; and the coroner is blamed for not sending him off to the county jail the moment the verdict was given, though it was then night. It is also a part of our clearest duty to do all in our power to bring the guilty to punishment, and to prepare the case, in a certain degree, for the officers of the crown; consequently, without any great stretch of interpretation, we may consider ourselves justified in using every means, to satisfy ourselves who are innocent and who are guilty. You think that Captain Delaware is not the culprit; and you think that three persons have, at all events, been concerned in the murder. Some suspicion of this kind must also have been in the minds of the coroner's jury, when they returned a verdict against Captain William Delaware, and some person or persons unknown. It is our next business, therefore, to search for those persons unknown, by every means in our power."
"Why, as to the Captain, sir," answered Cousins, "the business would be soon settled, if we could find out how he came by the money.'"
"It is the most extraordinary thing in the world," said Dr. Wilton, "that Mr. Beauchamp cannot be found anywhere--I am really beginning to be apprehensive concerning him. He left me in a very low and depressed state; and if his servant, Harding, were not with him--which, as he is not to be heard of either, it would seem he is--I should be afraid that his mind had given way."
"Harding! Harding!" said Cousins, thoughtfully, "I wonder if that could be the Harding who was a sort of valet and secretary to ---- the banker, and who pocketed a good deal of his cash when he failed. He had well nigh been hanged, or at least taken a swim across the pond--but the lawyer let him off for some disclosures he made, and got him a new place too, they say! I have lost sight of that chap for a long time. But however, sir, you were speaking about the persons unknown. Now I think, do you see, that I have got the end of a clue that may lead to one of them; and if we get one we cannot fail to get all."
"Who then do you think it is?" demanded Mr. Egerton. "Let no means be spared to find out even one of the ruffians."
"Why sir, you see, I don't mind telling you, because it will go no farther; but I think it had better be alone," and he looked significantly at the clerk, who was instantly ordered to withdraw.
"Beg pardon, gentlemen," said Cousins more freely, when the other had left the room; "but I've known some of those country clerks that were the arrantest gossips in the whole neighbourhood. However the matter is, I hit upon what I think is the head of the right nail, when I was after the other business, do you see. You told me to enquire about the burning of the lady's house, and the silver plate that had disappeared; so, amongst other things, I went to the coach-office, and examined the books, and just about that time I found that there had been two parcels sent up to Amos Jacobs, Esq., to be left till called for. Now, thinks I, who can Amos Jacobs be, but the old Jew of the Scuttle-hole, as they call him. He receives stolen goods, gentlemen, and is as great a blind as ever swung. Well, I asked the book-keeper if he had noticed those two parcels; and he said yes, because they were so small, and yet so heavy. So then I asked who brought them; and he said a gentleman what had been lodging three doors down the street, for six weeks or so. So away I went; and, looking up at the house, I saw, 'Lodgings to Let' stuck up, and in I walked."
"Mr. Beauchamp's lodgings, I dare say," said Dr. Wilton smiling.
"No, no, sir!" replied Cousins, "I knew those before. They lie a good bit farther down. But an old woman came to show me the lodgings, thinking I was going to take them. So I asked her who had been in them before, and she up and told me all about it. A very nice gentleman she said he was, who was a great chemist she believed; for he was always puddling about over a fire, making experiments as he told her--but bless you, gentlemen! he was just making white soup of the lady's plate--that was what he was doing. So then I asked her his name, and she told me it was Mr. Anthony Smithson. So then the whole matter came upon me at once. Your worships must understand that, as far as I know of or remember, there is only one man upon the lay in London who has lost a bit of his finger; and not having seen him for some time, I had forgot all about him. His name is Tony Thomson--but sometimes people called him Billy Winter--and at times he took the name of Johnson--and Perkins too, I have heard him called--but the name he went by generally, a good while ago, was Tony Smithson."
"But if the lodgings were to be let, he must of course be gone?" cried Dr. Wilton; "and we are as far off from the facts as ever."
"Oh! he is gone, sure enough!" answered the officer, "That was the first thing I asked the old woman, and she told me that he went the very day before the terrible murder, and that he would be so sorry to hear it, for he used often to walk up that way, and asked her many questions about Mr. Tims, poor old man. Well, when I heard this, and had got a good deal more out of her, I thought I might as well look through the place; for these sort of folks generally are in too great a hurry not to leave something behind them; and I opened all the drawers and places--and the old woman thought it very strange, till I told her who I was. He had cleared all away, however, except this gold thimble, which had fallen halfway down between the drawers and the wall. It has got 'J. D.' upon it, which, I take it, means--'Something Darlington.' So it must have been prigged at the time of the fire."
Dr. Wilton and Mr. Egerton both looked at the thimble, and felt convinced that it had belonged to Mrs. Darlington. At all events, the information which Cousins had obtained, was of course most important, as it rendered it more than probable, that one at least of the persons who had robbed, if not fired the house upon the hill, had been also a principal in the murder of the miser. Both the magistrates, therefore, joined in giving high commendations to the officer, and particular directions were added for prosecuting the investigation. Cousins, however, had already anticipated several of the orders he now received.
"I tried all I could, sir," he replied, "to find out some of the fellow's stray boots or shoes, but he had left none behind. I then went to all the different shoemakers and cobblers, to see if any of them could give me his measure; but he had been too cunning for that. The stage-coachman, however, remembered taking him up here for London, and setting him down, by his own desire, at a little public-house four miles off; so that we have got upon the right scent beyond doubt; and if you will give me permission, gentlemen, I will go out this evening, and find out whom he most kept company with in this place, before the matter gets blown. I have had a good pumping to-night already; but it would not do."
"And pray, who took the trouble of pumping you. Cousins?" demanded Mr. Egerton. "Though this is the most gossiping town in Europe, I should have thought there was roguery enough in it also, to keep the inhabitants from meddling unnecessarily with a police-officer."
"Oh, it was none of the people of the place, sir!" replied Cousins. "They only stared at me. This was the Mr. Tims who gave the Captain in charge, I hear. He seems a sharp hand, and he has a great goodwill to prove the captain guilty, though I don't see just yet, what good it would do him, either."
Dr. Wilton asked several questions concerning the lawyer, and the examination to which he had subjected the officer; and then--after shaking his head, and observing that he believed Mr. Peter Tims to be a great rogue--he dismissed Cousins to pursue his enquiries in the town.
It must be here remarked, that Mr. Egerton, although he knew William Delaware personally, and did not think him at all a person to commit the crime with which he was charged, had never felt that assured confidence in his innocence which Dr. Wilton had always experienced. It was not, indeed, that Mr. Egerton thought worse of Captain Delaware individually than the clergyman did, but he thought worse of the whole human race. Gradually, however, he had been coming over to Dr. Wilton's opinion; and his conversation that night with the officer, had completely made a convert of him, by showing him that, notwithstanding the one extraordinary circumstance which yet remained to be explained, every new fact that was elicited, tended more and more to prove that the murder had been committed by persons of a very different class and habits from the supposed delinquent. Feeling, therefore, that in some degree he had done the unfortunate young gentleman injustice, he now determined to redouble his exertions to apprehend the real culprits, in the hope and expectation of clearing the character of Captain Delaware. With this view, he resolved to remain at Emberton that night, contrary to his former plans; and he proposed to Dr. Wilton to visit the old miser's house at Ryebury the next morning, in order to verify the footmarks, as measured by Cousins, lest the new proprietor might think fit, after the funeral, which was to take place at four that day, to have all traces of the horrid scene effaced, which he might do for more reasons than one, if the malevolence Captain Delaware charged him with were really his motive.
"Why, the truth is," replied Dr. Wilton, in answer to this proposal, "that I intended to go very early to-morrow to Mrs. Darlington's, to see poor Blanche Delaware, and try to discover whether she can give any clue by which Henry Beauchamp can be found."
"Is it likely that she should possess any?" said Mr. Egerton, laughing.
"Why, they are cousins, you know," answered Dr. Wilton, with a smile which served to contradict the reason that his words seemed to assign for the knowledge of her cousin's movements, which he attributed to Miss Delaware. "They are cousins, you know; and I have heard it reported that there was something more--but, at all events, I am anxious about the lad, and do not choose to leave any chance of discovering him untried."
"But, by the way, I forgot," said Mr. Egerton, "I heard an hour or two ago that Sir Sidney and Miss Delaware had left Mrs. Darlington's, and had gone to some watering-place, I think the people said."
"Oh no, impossible!" said Dr. Wilton. "Impossible! They would have let me hear, as a matter of course." Nevertheless, he rose and rang the bell, although, so convinced was he of the truth of what he asserted, that, ere the waiter appeared, he had proceeded to arrange with Mr. Egerton, that while that gentleman went to Ryebury, and verified the traces which Cousins had observed, he would drive to Mrs. Darlington's, and make the enquiries he proposed.
"Pray, have you heard any thing of Sir Sidney Delaware having left Mrs. Darlington's new house?" demanded Dr. Wilton, when the waiter appeared.
"Oh dear yes, sir!" replied the man. "Mr. Tims--Lawyer Tims, sir--who was there this morning, could find none of them, and has been enquiring all over the place to make out where they are gone to. But nobody can tell, sir, and every one says they have run away."
"Nonsense! said Mr. Egerton, "That will do!" and the waiter retired.
"This is very extraordinary!" said Dr. Wilton. "Every one seems to be disappearing, one after the other. Nevertheless, I will go up and enquire of Mrs. Darlington, and will come and join you at Ryebury afterwards."
The meeting was accordingly arranged, and shortly after Cousins returned, bringing a vast store of fresh information. Mr. Anthony Smithson, alias Thomson, alias Perkins, alias Johnson, alias Winter, fully described and particularized, so as to leave no doubt whatever, of his identity with crushfingered Billy Winter, a notorious London flashman, had been remarked, by all the wonder-mongers of Emberton, for his intimacy with Mr. Harding, Mr. Burrel's servant. He had been also observed to have a peculiar predilection for the lanes and fields about the house at Ryebury. This information had led the officers to fresh enquiries, concerning the philosophical Harding himself, who had been accurately described by the investigating and observing people of Emberton; and, on his return, Cousins expressed his fullest conviction, that he was the identical Harding, who had, as he before described, got off in a serious criminal case, solely by the connivance of an attorney. Who that attorney was, need hardly be explained; and indeed, to do so, would only lead us into the details of a previous affair, totally unconnected with this history. Suffice it, that no sooner did Cousins hear that Harding had been with his master, at the house of Mrs. Darlington, on the day of the fire, than he at once declared himself to be perfectly certain that his hands, and no others, had kindled the flame. He added also, that he did not doubt that Smithson and Harding--whether they had exactly fixed upon any precise object or not--had come down to Emberton, with the intention of acting in concert; and he added, that it would not at all surprise him, to find that they were the two who committed the murder itself, especially as the people had particularly described to him the valet's long foot.
While he was speaking, Dr. Wilton rapidly turned over his notes of the examination of Captain Delaware, and the servants at Emberton Park, and at length lighted upon the declaration of the manservant, who stated, that in returning from some errand in that direction, he had seen the valet Harding at the back of the park, the lanes surrounding which led directly towards Ryebury.
"If I could think of any reason for his putting the money in the captain's room," said Cousins, as the clergyman read this passage, "I should think that Harding had done it himself, on purpose to hang him."
"May he not have been instigated to do it by others?" said Mr. Egerton.
"If one could find out any reason for it," replied the officer.
"Why, Captain Delaware suspected something of the kind himself," replied the magistrate, and he read a part of the young fugitive's letter, watching from time to time, as he did so, the effect it produced upon the countenance of a man who, like Cousins, was accustomed to trace and encounter crime in every form. The officer closed one eye, put his tongue slightly into his cheek, and ended by a half whistle.
"You had better look to it gentlemen," he said; "you had better look to it--such things have been done before now--so you had better look to it!"
"We will!" answered Dr. Wilton, "We will! let us see you to-morrow about nine, Cousins."
The officer took the hint, and withdrew.