"Then why did he not tell me who he was?—why did he entrap me, and compel me at the muzzle of the levelled pistol to conduct him to my secret places?" demanded Old Death impatiently.
"Your villany and your craft could only be met by stratagem and counterplot," returned the Earl emphatically; "and in that way did Rainford meet you. And yet—for the truth of my assertion you cannot deny—you have sent your own nephew to the scaffold!"
"It was his own fault!" persisted Old Death doggedly. "He should not have crossed my path—he should not have proclaimed warfare against me. I would have been his friend——"
"His friend!" exclaimed the Earl, in a tone of bitter scorn.
"Yes—his friend, after his own fashion—in the way he wanted a friend!" continued Old Death, becoming garrulous with nervous excitement. "But he outraged me in a way I could not forgive nor forget—he penetrated into all my secrets—he might have returned and helped himself again and again from my stores—he knew too much for me to be safe—and moreover he bound me to a chair in such a way that I fell into a fit, and should have died had it not been for this man here," added the miscreant, indicating Tidmarsh. "All those things combined to render Rainford's death necessary—and he has paid the penalty of his conduct towards me."
Lord Ellingham recoiled in horror from the fiend-like man who could thus seek to palliate the foul deed of having sent his own relative to the scaffold, through no moral motives, but merely to gratify his vengeance and remove one who seemed to be dangerous in his path.
"Let us know more of the sham-death business on your part, Mr. Bones—or whatever your name is," said Dr. Lascelles.
"You remember that night I came round to the house here and met you, sir?" hastily exclaimed Tidmarsh, thinking that he should serve himself by exhibiting a readiness to volunteer any explanation that was required. "Well—you recollect that it was the night you saw Rainford in your laboratory, and we knew that he had gone down into the subterranean. Then, if you please to remember, we went away together—and I took leave of you at the corner of Turnmill Street. But I suspected there was something wrong—although I did not dare offer to go into Mr. Bones's rooms while you were with me. As soon as you had left me, however, I returned to the house—not by the subterranean, be it well understood,—and passing through your laboratory——"
"Then you possess counterpart keys, rascal!" exclaimed the physician angrily. "But go on."
"Well, sir—I passed through your laboratory into the bed-room there, locking the door of communication after me. Then I entered the first store-room; but I had scarcely put foot therein when I heard a violent noise as if some one was trying to break through the trap-door in the bed-chamber. I confess that I was frightened—because I knew it must be Rainford, and I suspected him to be a desperate man who meant no good in that house. I remained quite still—heard him break open the trap and come forth. I also heard him, dash open the door of your laboratory, through which he passed; but as I had neglected to lock the other door there—leading to the landing—he was not compelled to force that also. Well—I waited a few minutes, till I thought he had left the house; and then, having great misgivings on account of Mr. Bones, I went into the next store-room. But there I caught a glimpse of Rainford, standing over Mr. Bones, who was tied in his chair. I was about to retreat, I must confess—but Rainford bolted away like a ghost; and I ran up to my friend, who I thought was dead. I however saw enough, at a second glance, to convince me that he was only in a kind of trance-like fit; and in a short time I recovered him. That's my part of the story, sir; and, I hope——"