“You shall hear all,” said Cashel, passing his hand across his brow, which now ached with the torture of intense emotion. “To save myself from all the ignominy of a felon's death, I did not reveal this before. It was with me as a point of honor, that I would reserve this man for a personal vengeance; but now a glimmering light is breaking on my brain, that darker deeds than all he worked against me lie at his door, and that in following up my revenge I may be but robbing the scaffold of its due. Listen to me attentively.” So saying, Cashel narrated every event of the memorable day of Kennyfeck's death, detailing his meeting with Enrique in the glen, and his last interview with Linton in his dressing-room.
Hammond heard all with deepest interest, only interrupting at times to ask such questions as might throw light upon the story. The whole body of the circumstantial evidence against Roland not only became easily explicable, but the shrewd perception of the lawyer also saw the consummate skill with which the details had been worked into regular order, and what consistency had been imparted to them. The great difficulty of the case lay in the fact that, supposing Kennyfeck's death had been planned by others, with the intention of imputing the crime to Cashel, yet all the circumstances, or nearly all, which seemed to imply his guilt, were matters of perfect accident, for which they never could have provided, nor even ever foreseen,—such as his entrance by the window, his torn dress, the wound of his hand, and the blood upon his clothes.
“I see but one clew to this mystery,” said Hammond, thoughtfully; “but the more I reflect upon it, the more likely does it seem. Kennyfeck's fate was intended for you,—he fell by a mistake.”
Roland started with astonishment, but listened with deep attention as Hammond recapitulated everything which accorded with this assumption.
“But why was one of my own pistols taken for the deed?”
“Perhaps to suggest the notion of suicide.”
“How could my death have been turned to profit? Was I not better as the living dupe than as the dead enemy?”
“Do you not see how your death legalized the deed with a forged signature? Who was to dispute its authenticity? Besides, how know we what ambitions Linton may not have cherished when holding in his hands the only title to the estate. We may go too fast with these suspicions, but let us not reject them as inconsistent Who is this same witness, Keane? What motives had he for the gratitude he evinced on the trial?”
“None whatever; on the contrary, I never showed him any favor; it was even my intention to dismiss him from the gate-lodge!”
“And he was aware of this?”