Sir William himself, in a short but learned exposition given during the course of his evidence, pronounced it as his opinion that Eustace Charliewood had been suddenly seized by one of those unexplainable impulses of mania which, like a scarlet thread, sometimes lurk unsuspected for years in the pearly cells of the brain.
His view was accepted by the coroner and the jury, and the usual verdict of temporary insanity was returned.
"He was," Sir William had said at the close of the evidence and in a voice broken with deep feeling, "the best and truest friend I have ever had. Our walks in life were utterly different. He took no interest in, nor did he understand, my scientific work. And I, on the other hand, took very little part in the social duties and amusements which made up the greater part of Mr. Eustace Charliewood's life. Perhaps for that very reason we were the more closely drawn together. No one will ever know, perhaps, the real underlying goodness, generosity and faithfulness in my dead friend's character. I cannot go into details of his private life, I can only say that the mysterious seizure which has robbed society of one of its ornaments, has taken from the world a gentleman in every thought and deed, a type of man we can ill afford to lose in the England of to-day."
Young Lord Landsend, who, with Mr. Percy Alemare, had attended the inquest from London, looked at his friend with a somewhat cynical smile, as the deep voice of Sir William Gouldesbrough faltered in its peroration. Mr. Percy Alemare replied to the smile with a momentary wink. Both of the young men were very sorry that Eustace Charliewood had dropped out so suddenly. They had liked him well enough, but they certainly had not discerned the innate nobility of character, so feelingly set forth by Sir William Gouldesbrough, and so fully reported by the newspaper-men present.
Afterwards, in the hotel, old Sir Miles Charliewood had shaken the scientist warmly by the hand.
"What I have heard you say, Sir," he said, "comforted me very much. I wish poor Eustace's eldest brother had been here to hear you say it. But James is in India with his regiment. Eustace did not come to us at Charliewood Hall. There were family reasons of long standing, why there was a breach between his family and himself. These, Sir William, I will not enter into here. But death heals all breaches, and remembering Eustace as a bright and happy boy at Eton, before we became estranged, I feel a father's natural sorrow. But let me say, Sir William, once more, that you have lightened that sorrow somewhat. I had regarded my son as living a useless and selfish life upon the allowance I was in the habit of paying into his bank. To hear that there was an underlying strata of goodness and nobleness in his character is indeed a solace."
Sir William had bowed, and old Sir Miles, a courtly old gentleman of great age, whose grief had not prevented him from making an excellent dinner the evening before, and from passing somewhat acrid criticisms upon the hotel wine, drove away to the station, smoking a cigar, and feeling that the troublesome and unpleasant episode was well over.
Thus, Mr. Eustace Charliewood, man about town, made his sudden exit from Vanity Fair.
Thus, Sir William Gouldesbrough, F.R.S., had another secret to lock up in the sombre recesses of his brain.
During the three days that he had been forced to remain in Brighton by the tragedy, Sir William had seen something of the two ladies at the Palace Hotel.