“You are sure that that is the only course?” Dr. Prescott was most sympathetic.
“Yes, I am sure,” the old man said, “My brother, the one whom you all call the hunchback, was injured during the late war so that he was deformed for life and his mind was affected. He has, since his discharge from the hospital, been a recluse, refusing to see anyone except myself and a very few friends. He has spent most of his time searching old family records with the aim in view of writing a family history.
“He has always loved this estate and felt, for no very good reason, that he and I were the logical heirs. When it passed to someone across the water, the blow almost killed him. However, he recovered, and we kept him under close guard when Nancy’s parents were here some time ago.
“Apparently, after their departure, since they left the care of the place in our hands, he was resigned to what had happened. However, when the old king died and he saw that our old Scotch privilege of taking part in the coronation was given to an American, the old wound was reopened. For days he was like a mad man around here. Then he quieted down, and I thought that he was accepting fate again. When he disappeared some weeks ago, I made a quiet search. Unable to find out anything, I let the matter rest, hoping against hope that he had gone into retirement as he often has in recent years.
“What must have happened you know as well as I. That he is somewhere in this vicinity, I am certain, as certain as I am that he was the driver of the coach last night on the wild drive up the hill. Why it was that he stopped, that he didn’t carry out what I think was his original intention, to drive you all over the embankment, I can only guess.
“It wasn’t for fear of losing his own life, I know. I believe that it was concern for me. We have always been very fond of one another.”
He said this last simply, and made a motion, as no one else moved, to go himself and pull the bell chord.