Dilemmas of Pride Volume II Part 9

"Let it be so supposed then, and discourage all further inquiry. Good night--" and here he again covered his face; on which Geoffery sought his own room, and having carefully shut and bolted his door, drew the purloined letter from his pocket, and without waiting to sit down, perused its contents with a countenance of eager satisfaction. He then proceeded to unfold and read an enclosure which seemed to make him look grave. After this he paced the apartment lost in thought, from which he broke into occasional soliloquy, thus: "My coming over too, just at this juncture, was the merest chance: if I had not been short of cash, I should not have thought of it." A long pause followed.--"He was always a vain fool," he recommenced: "the dread of being laughed at, I make no doubt, has goaded him to this! There must have been derangement of course, temporary, at least." He opened the letter again, and looked at a pa.s.sage or two--"Incoherent enough!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "But my happening to see the packet," he pursued, "was so fortunate----He had not noticed it, I should think----that, however, is a point which I must ascertain, for he appears to be by some means, aware of the suicide----but can he prove it, if necessary?----at present he seems desirous to conceal the fact, which is so far well, the mystery will look suspicious.----" Here he again opened the enclosure, shook his head, looked serious, and paced the room once or twice----"Their being abroad, however, just at this time, has happened well," he said--stopped and stood still--then added, after a long pause of deep and motionless thought, "This is most probably the only proof----It would certainly appear from its style that he had made no previous disclosure----I must talk with him----I shall easily perceive how far he is informed, and, at any rate, it is highly improbable that the letter has been seen by any witness."

CHAPTER XXII.

The slumbers which followed the prolonged reveries of Geoffery Arden, were rendered unrefreshing by feverish dreams, some of a truly horrible character; in particular the vision that presented itself on his first closing his eyes; which was, that he had himself for some reason or other been condemned to be hung; that it was the night before his execution, and that he was laying trembling in the condemned cell, dreading the approach of dawn. The agony of his feelings awoke him. What he had just suffered, and his infinite relief on finding that all was but a dream, had for some moments a salutary effect, even on his heart, which, if ever heart of man was justly ent.i.tled to the epithet, was indeed "desperately wicked;" now, however, the scheme with which he had laid his head on his pillow, seemed almost too diabolical to be attempted; he almost shrank from the idea of inflicting on any human creature the intense suffering with the recent escape from which his own heart still beat audibly.

These were the thoughts of solitude and of darkness. He slept again, and awoke only to fear, as he beheld the full light of day penetrating every where, and making the true forms of all things evident, that his scheme of murderous treachery was too monstrous to be practicable. No one would listen to such a proposition: and as for proofs, could circ.u.mstances be indeed tortured into any strong enough to meet the powerful current of opinion, flowing in the opposite direction? Yet, on the other hand, such things had been heard of, and without one-tenth part the stake as to property, which in this instance might be alleged as one powerful incentive, while there was room also to suppose the workings of violent jealousy, and even of revenge. His own mother, moreover, could be summoned to prove that he had actually been accepted, and that he himself ascribed his disappointment afterwards to the rivalship of his brother.

At this moment a servant answered Geoffery's bell, prepared to a.s.sist him at his morning toilet.

The man's face was full of importance and mystery; Geoffery noted this, and willing to encourage the fellow, in whatever he might have to tell respecting the opinions of servants, &c., said,

"Why, Davison, you look absolutely frightened! What is the matter?"

"I don't know that I have got any occasion to look frightened," said the man, "for whatever way the poor gentleman came by his death, whether by a fit, as some _sais_, or by poison, as others _thinks_, it was nearly over with him before ever we came to the house. But there's no saying, for that matter, who'll be blamed, or who wont; they are all in such a taking about it below, as never was."

"How do you mean?"

"Why the coachman thinks that as it was he that went to Arden for the a.r.s.enic for laying for the rats, for it was in the stable-lofts they were most troublesome, that he'll get brought into some mischief, although he had his master's orders; but who is to prove that, now poor Sir Willoughby's dead and gone? And for the butler, he's afraid of his life, but people may think that something must have been wrong with the gla.s.ses or the water, when he carried them in; and so he took Johnson and myself to the saddle-room, that we should see where the a.r.s.enic lay, and so judge that it was impossible for it to come near any thing that was for eating or drinking. When we got there, however, the packet with the poison was nowhere to be found, although it had lain on the very shelf he showed us, in that selfsame room (the butler _sais_), no longer ago than yesterday forenoon, when poor Sir Willoughby and Mr. Alfred looked at it themselves."

"Strange indeed!" said Geoffery, "and has inquiry been made? Does any one own to having moved the packet? This may throw light on the whole affair. It is rather too bad that gentlemen are to lose their lives in this manner by the shameful carelessness of servants. How are they to prove it carelessness either? How are they to show it was not intentional? The half of them will be hung, I make no doubt, and richly they deserve it."

"The servants are all ready to swear, that not one of them touched it, or so much as went near the place," replied Davison; "and what's more, the groom who was leading the horses round, after the gentlemen returned from riding, _sais_, that he saw Mr. Alfred coming out of the saddle-room with a paper parcel in his hand; so that if one of the family thought proper to remove the a.r.s.enic himself, and an accident happened in consequence to any article of food, the servants all say that was no fault of theirs."

"Can the man swear to this?"

"So he _sais_."

"If this could be proved it might certainly clear servants from blame, but it is, I must say, altogether a very improbable story. If Sir Alfred had wished to have the a.r.s.enic removed to any other place, he would have given orders to that effect, and not have gone about the thing himself in the clandestine manner you describe. No, no, this won't do, it is but a flimsy excuse, and as I told you before, gentlemen are not to lose their lives by the shameful carelessness of servants; nor are their nonsensical excuses to be taken, and the thing hushed up. As for poor Sir Alfred, he is too much overcome by his grief to attend to any thing; it necessarily devolves upon me therefore to make the proper inquiries.--Send Johnson here, I must question him. I shall, in fact, examine them all, both separately and face to face."

Geoffery was determined, by this means and on this pretext, to collect all the information he could as to what were the surmises of others, and what the facts of the case, that admitted of proof or of distortion. He knew enough to be perfectly aware that the servants were not in fault, but he considered it his most judicious play, to pretend to blame them; exciting their ignorant and selfish fears, might be useful, and at length make them willing to hear even their master accused rather than themselves. Although he had sources of information not open to others, he could by no means understand the extraordinary circ.u.mstance of the paper which had fallen from Alfred's bosom. The attempt to rinse the gla.s.s, he now indeed thought might be ascribed to the wish Alfred had since expressed to conceal the fact of the suicide; but as he had not explained his motive to the doctor at the time, the circ.u.mstance looked so very suspicious, that he hoped it might be turned to account. He could of course deny what his cousin had said to him in private. Knowing however, as he did, that the inference to be naturally drawn from all that had at present transpired was false, he was aware that he must proceed with caution; something positive might yet come to light, which would do away with all fallacies, and render it imprudent in him, or at least invidious to breathe a suspicion against his cousin.

Before he took any step, therefore, he must find out what all the servants had to say; and as he had already determined to do, sound Alfred himself,--without any witness present, however; for if, as he now began to hope, his cousin's exculpation should rest entirely on explanations to be made by himself, his not offering such till after formal accusations were brought against him, would look very suspicious.

He would, therefore, make himself the medium of communication between Alfred and all others; and, if possible, encourage him not to see any one else. In the end, if necessary, he could and would firmly and boldly deny every word which had been said to him only, and so give to his cousin's motives the colouring of excuses, subsequently invented to cover guilt. This, however, was a desperate game, which he would not venture to play till he could see that his card would sweep the board.

The circ.u.mstance of Alfred's having been seen bringing away the packet of poison, would certainly be very strong if it should so turn out that it could be proved; he feared, however, that it must be a mistake: he had his own reasons for thinking that it would be found to have been Sir Willoughby whom the groom had seen pa.s.s and carelessly mistaken for Sir Alfred.

CHAPTER XXIII.

"Pray, Johnson," said Geoffery, when the person so named made his appearance, "what is all this that Davison has been saying, about a paper of a.r.s.enic being missing from where it lay no later than yesterday; and the groom's absurd a.s.sertion, that Sir Alfred was the person who removed it? This is a mere excuse, to hide the carelessness of some of you servants, who have probably flung the paper of poison in among the gla.s.ses; and now that you see the consequences of your own misconduct, you are all terrified. And very justly, for I make no doubt of it, the half of you will be hung!--The plea of carelessness, let me tell you, and I know something of the law, will not be taken; malicious interest will be supposed. As I told Davison, if Sir Alfred chose to have the a.r.s.enic removed, he would have given his orders to that effect, and not have gone about the thing himself, in a skulking clandestine manner: why should he take so much trouble, unless concealment were his object; and what motive could he have for concealment?"

"The lad _sais_ it was Sir Alfred," answered Johnson.

"Can he swear to the fact?"

"He _sais_ he can."

"Poor Sir Alfred," proceeded Geoffery, "is not in a state of mind to be spoken to; or the thing might be cleared up in a moment, by my asking him the question. Indeed he has given orders that no one shall go near him; besides, it would be the utmost cruelty to allude to such a subject at present; particularly if he really has, by any carelessness about this paper of which you speak, been the cause of the accident, he will never forgive himself;--so that, in that case, from respect to his feelings, the circ.u.mstance ought in fact to be hushed up." Geoffery was well aware that ordering servants to hush a thing up, was the best possible mode of giving it publicity.

The groom, when he appeared, was so firm to his text, that Geoffery began to hope the a.s.sertion, whether true or false, might be turned to account. He endeavoured, accordingly, to terrify the lad into a steady evidence, by telling him, that what he once said, he must, on his peril, stand to throughout; for that the slightest prevarication, or even hesitation on so serious an affair, might hang him. "And I know something of the law," he added, as usual. So saying, he dismissed the groom, desiring him to send up the butler.

"This is a shocking business, Thomas," said Geoffery, as the butler entered.

Thomas made no reply.

"Poor Sir Alfred," continued Geoffery, "thinks, it seems, that his brother died of a fit, and it is better for his peace of mind, that he should think so; although there is no doubt, that Sir Willoughby was poisoned. Do you think, Thomas, that you will be able to clear yourself?"

"Clear myself!" answered the man, his eyes flashing with rage, through the honest tears he had been shedding for his master. "I'd be glad to know who'll accuse--I who have served his father, and his grandfather before him, man and boy these fifty-five years, and have nursed himself and his brother one on each knee, many's the time."

"Far be it from me, Thomas, to accuse you or any one else of such a crime as murder; I only suspect you of unpardonable carelessness; but I must say, and I know something of the law, as you may suppose, that circ.u.mstances are very strong against you; it may be thought that you intended to poison both brothers, and rob the house; my arrival was unexpected; such things you know have been done! Nothing I should think can clear you, but its being satisfactorily proved who is to blame. You brought up the gla.s.ses; poison has been found in one of them, and there was no one in the room but Sir Willoughby, his brother, and yourself.

You certainly would get nothing by the death of Sir Willoughby, unless, as I said before, you had made away with both gentlemen, and robbed the house; that is so far in your favour: yet no one, you know, could think of suspecting his own brother, and circ.u.mstances seem to lay the mischief, however it happened, at the door of one or the other."

"No one who had not got the heart of the devil in his breast would lay it at the door of either," replied the man, angrily.

Without noticing his irritation, Geoffery proceeded, "I still mean in the way of accident or mistake. Some of you talk, I understand, of Sir Alfred having been the person who removed the paper of a.r.s.enic." And here he enlarged as before, on the affliction our hero would no doubt suffer, could he at all blame himself for any thing that had happened, and how cruel it would therefore be to mention the subject to him.

"Was the a.r.s.enic at any time kept in the same place with the gla.s.ses? Do you think you might have scattered any quant.i.ty about, in lifting it from shelf to shelf?"

"I wiped out the gla.s.ses with my own hands, the moment before I carried them in. Besides, the a.r.s.enic was never in the cupboard with my things at all, it lay on a shelf in the saddle-room, quite out of the way of what was for any one's use, and was marked in large letters, "a.r.s.enic, poison"; for Sir Willoughby was very particular in his orders to me to be careful about it, and made me show him where I put it, and that Mr.

Alfred knows, for he was with his brother at the same time, no longer since than yesterday forenoon."

"If your statement is correct, I do not see how it was possible for an accident to have happened," said Geoffery, "could you swear that it was not possible for an accident to have occurred?"

"Yes, I could," he replied, though sulkily. "That is," he added, "as long as the a.r.s.enic lay where I left it."

This was one of the main points which Geoffery wanted to establish. He now dismissed the butler, who was sobbing so violently, that he could scarcely answer the questions put to him.

The coachman next entered; and it being Geoffery's object, with the views already stated, to alarm all the servants for their own safety, he looked extremely austere, and, aware that the individual he had now to deal with was not overburdened with wisdom, began thus:

"So I find, James, you don't pretend to deny that you brought a.r.s.enic from Arden, and the defence which I understand you pretend to set up, is, that you did so by your master's orders, for the purpose of poisoning rats. Now, this is quite too hackneyed an excuse; as to the orders you _say_ you received, I fancy you have no proof that you received any."

"I told the groom that went with me, and the boy at the apothecary's, that my master sent me."

"You told them! What sort of proof is that? You don't suppose that your own word will be taken for yourself, whatever it may against yourself!

This will never do. I know something of the law, and unless there is stronger evidence against some one else, you will certainly be hung for the murder. The only thing in your favour is, that you would get nothing by Sir Willoughby's death."

"If they _chooses_ to hang an innocent man," replied James, very philosophically, "I can't help it, I dun as I was bid."

"It's a very awkward thing having no witness in your favour but a dead man. Are you sure it was not Sir Alfred who gave you the orders? for if so, he is there, you know, to say so, which might save you."

"No, it was Sir Willoughby himself."