When they reached the office, they were informed by Jerry that Major
Carteret was engaged with General Belmont and Captain McBane. Mr.
Delamere knocked peremptorily at the door of the inner office, which was
opened by Carteret in person.
"Oh, it is you, Mr. Delamere."
"Carteret," exclaimed Mr. Delamere, "I must speak to you immediately, and alone."
"Excuse me a moment, gentlemen," said Carteret, turning to those within the room. "I'll be back in a moment—don't go away."
Ellis had left the room, closing the door behind him. Mr. Delamere and
Carteret were quite alone.
"Carteret," declared the old gentleman, "this murder must not take place."
"'Murder' is a hard word," replied the editor, frowning slightly.
"It is the right word," rejoined Mr. Delamere, decidedly. "It would be a foul and most unnatural murder, for Sandy did not kill Mrs. Ochiltree."
Carteret with difficulty restrained a smile of pity. His old friend was very much excited, as the tremor in his voice gave proof. The criminal was his trusted servant, who had proved unworthy of confidence. No one could question Mr. Delamere's motives; but he was old, his judgment was no longer to be relied upon. It was a great pity that he should so excite and overstrain himself about a worthless negro, who had forfeited his life for a dastardly crime. Mr. Delamere had had two paralytic strokes, and a third might prove fatal. He must be dealt with gently.
"Mr. Delamere," he said, with patient tolerance, "I think you are deceived. There is but one sure way to stop this execution. If your servant is innocent, you must produce the real criminal. If the negro, with such overwhelming proofs against him, is not guilty, who is?"