"All the better," replied the Scotch doctor, with a sombre frown. "Keep your pistols and the gun ready—pot the first villain who comes within range through the skylight. Poor Mr. Basset! poor Mr. Basset! Bartelot and Morrison, assist me, please; we have work to do—quick, before the ladies awake and hear us."
The body of Mr. Basset was laid on Captain Phillips's bed, and the hateful rope which still compressed his throat, together with the cord that secured his wrists, was cut off and flung away by Heriot's ready hand.
Blackened, swollen in features, and horribly disfigured, with protruding eyes and tongue, few would have recognised, save by his dress, the bland and smiling smooth-skinned, close-shaved, and rather florid gentleman of a few minutes ago.
"Dead—quite dead!" groaned Morley, as he hung over him; "my poor friend—oh, my poor friend! so kind—so gentle—so amiable!"
"What a fate his has been!" added Tom Bartelot.
"And who is to tell it to his poor girls?" said Morrison.
"Ethel, at least," whispered Heriot with a significant glance at Morley, "must be kept as long as possible in ignorance; after the shock of last night to know of this might have a most serious effect upon her nervous system."
"Papa, papa, speak with me, please!" they heard her soft, pleasant voice say at that moment.
"Say what you will or can, Ashton; but Miss Basset must not see her father yet," said Heriot, hastily; "the shock, as I have said, might be dangerous, for his aspect is terrible."
"Speak to me, dear papa, for one moment. I have had such a horrible dream, and all about you," she said again.