“Very likely. Or it may be that De Castres might have guessed the truth.”
John turned to Elinor. “When he visited you, Mrs. Cheviot, did Bedlington make any attempt to come near that clock or to contrive that he should be left alone in the bookroom?”
“None whatsoever,” she replied. “I received him in the parlor and he showed no disposition to linger. But he did say that he would return to attend the funeral and that he should stay at Highnoons.”
“He was frightened,” John said slowly. “At that time, I did not credit Ned’s suspicions, but it is true that he was devilish ill at ease. But Ned thought then that Francis Cheviot might be the man we were after, and I set it all down to Bedlington’s having got wind of it. Ned, do you think he can have lost his head and told the whole to Francis? Or even that Francis has been privy to it from the start?”
“Certainly not that. Had Francis been joined with his father in the treason I cannot doubt that De Castres would be alive today. It is possible that Bedlington, finding his schemes to have gone hopelessly awry, turned to Francis for aid, to save him from disgrace. That Bedlington, with affairs in this uncertain state, has retired into the country on a plea of ill health, seems to me to suggest that Francis has taken the reins into his hands and is driving his father hard.”
Again John stared down into his wineglass, his brow furrowed. “And you would give that memorandum to him?” he said.
“Well?” Carlyon said. “If my conjectures are found to be correct, you will agree that Francis Cheviot leaves nothing to chance. De Castres was his frend, but De Castres is dead. I do not know how he means to deal with Bedlington, but I think, if I were Bedlington, I should deem it well to obey Francis—quite implicitly.”
“Surely he would not harm his own father!” cried Elinor.
“I wonder if his father thinks so?” said Carlyon dryly.
“Ned, this is not a thing to be decided in a trice.”