So concludes this part of the narrative, with only this to add—that, had Griscombe had no one to think of but himself, he would at once have torn open the fatal travelling-case, and so have satisfied himself as to the nature of its contents. As it was, for the sake of his charge, who had in so short a time grown so infinitely dear to him, he would rather have had his right hand struck off than have betrayed his terrible apprehensions to her innocent ears. Accordingly, he still wrapped himself in his martyrdom of silence, though he would rather have sat facing a living adder than that ominous portmanteau upon the front seat of the post-chaise.
[HERE FOLLOWS THE FIFTH CHAPTER]
[CHAPTER FIVE]
The CONCLUSION of the STORY of the young LAWYER and his Four CLIENTS.
The snow, which had begun falling about noon, was, by the time the two travellers reached the ferry to New York, descending in such impenetrable sheets as entirely to conceal the further shore from Paulus Hook. Indeed, it required no little persuasion upon the part of our hero and the promise of a very heavy bribe to induce the negro ferryman to transport them across the river upon so forbidding a night. And so slow was their transit and so doubtful their course that the night was pretty far advanced before they reached New York.
The town lay perfectly silent, smothered in a blanket of soundless white, upon which the ceaseless clouds of snow fell noiselessly out of the inky sky above. Indeed, the drifts were become so deep that Griscombe entertained very considerable doubts as to how he should convey Miss Desmond and the now tragic contents of the portmanteau to their final destination.