“Poisoned!” exclaimed Bourne, in an evident state of trepidation. “Gracious Heaven! I hope there was no ground for any such statement.”
“I am pretty sure there was. Wall, you see, when Silas Leaven heard all these things it occurred to him that he had better try and find the girl Tilda in the first place, and after that he might make further inquiries.”
“And did he find her?”
“Oh, ya-as, he found her. She was at work on a plantation a good many miles from his own, it is true, but he found her nevertheless, and engaged her as a help on his own farm, for she was a faithful, hardworking darkie. She told him a lot more.”
“What did she tell him then?”
“Ah, she up and told him as plain as the letter O that she believed her dear young mistress was done away with.”
“Oh! it’s not at all likely upon the very face of it. Calumnies—all calumnies.”
“Wait a bit, doctor. The case was placed in my hands, and I need not tell you that I did not let it go to sleep. It had been slumbering for a good many years, but when I had hold of it I was not disposed to let it rest.”
“Quite right. What did you do then?”
“I got an order to exhume the body, so that a post-mortem might be made, and an inquest held.”