"And now then, tell me," continued Sir Sidney, after he had despatched a great number of his questions; "how did you contrive to place the money so cleverly in William's room at Emberton, without any one seeing you?"
"The fact is, my dear sir," answered Beauchamp, "that I knew the house and all its passages, as well if not better than any of you. You must remember that a great part of my boyhood was spent there, and a thousand times, under my incognito name of Burrel, I had nearly betrayed my acquaintance with every room in the building. I had seen, in walking round the house, that the door of the well-vault, as it used to be called, was always open; and when I wanted to place the money in your son's room without being seen, I resolved to try the little staircase, up and down which I had often played at hide-and-seek. I thus made my way to the trapdoor, when, to my surprise and mortification, I found it nailed. As, however, it shook under my hand when I tried it, I resolved to make a strong effort to push it open, in which I succeeded, the nail either breaking or coming out, I did not stay to examine which. My hand, however, was torn in doing so; and unfortunately a drop of blood fell upon one of the notes, as I folded them up in a sheet of paper I found upon the table. The packet I directed as well as I could by the moonlight, and I then put down the money and went away as fast as I could."
"That just brings me to my last question," said Sir Sidney, "and here is your sister driving into the court; so tell me why it was you did not rather give the money into my hands, or William's, or Blanche's, or any one's, rather than risk it in such a situation?"
Beauchamp laughed, and turning towards Miss Delaware, who was just then re-entering the room, he replied, "Really, Sir Sidney, I must refuse to plead--You must ask Blanche."
"Well then, you tell me, my love," continued the baronet, turning to his daughter, "What could your cousin's reason be, for putting the money, that has caused us so much anxiety, into William's room that night, rather than giving it to me or you, as it seems he knew that William was out?"
Beauchamp and Captain Delaware both smiled, and Blanche blushed deeply, but was silent.
"So, so!" said Sir Sidney. "Is it so?--Well, well, I stop my questions there--William, run out and welcome your fair cousin! Blanche, give me your hand--There, Henry, take her; and may she ever be to you as dear, as gentle, as good, and as beloved a wife, as her mother was to me."
There was but little more now to be explained; though Sir Sidney, in reward for the young earl's patience under cross-examination, took great pains to make him understand how his son, William, had found means, through their poor pensioner, Widow Harrison herself, to communicate to the family his safe arrival in France, and a plan for their meeting, which had been immediately adopted--how they had skilfully contrived, to conceal their route--and how their good old friend Arnoux, had prevailed upon them to pause at Poligny, instead of going on to Sicily, as they had at first intended.
From Widow Harrison, too, to whose faith and gratitude they could trust, and to whom alone their place of residence had been communicated, they had learned by letter many of Beauchamp's efforts in their favour, as well as their success and the ultimate result of the trial; but still, although they had heard so much, there was yet matter enough left to be told on both sides, to furnish forth many a story for the bright fireside.
Nothing more remains for the writer, to whom their own lips kindly furnished the materials for composing this book, than to add that a very few months afterwards, at the chapel of the British Ambassador at Paris, Henry Earl of Ashborough was married to Blanche, only daughter of Sir Sidney Delaware; and that the body of poor Walter Harrison sleeps by the side of the Lake of Geneva.