CHAPTER CVII.
MRS. OAKLEY DISSEMBLES.
With trembling steps, Mrs. Oakley followed Lupin, the murderer, into his own room. Of course she was resolved to see nothing, and to make no remark that could in any way direct the attention of Lupin more closely to her, and, oh, how she panted for some opportunity of rushing into the street and crying aloud to the passers by, that the pious hypocrite was a murderer. But as yet she felt that her life depended upon the manner in which she played her part.
"Truly, sister Oakley," said Lupin, "I hope you passed a quiet and peaceful night. Amen!"
"Very," replied Mrs. Oakley.
"Ah, I wish I could say as much, sister Oakley."
"And can you not?"
"Alas! no, I had some dreams—some very bad dreams; but Satan always will be doing something, you know, sister. Do you know I dreamt of a murder!"
As he uttered these words, no Grand Inquisitor could have looked more keenly into the eyes of a victim, than did Mr. Lupin into the face of Mrs. Oakley; but she divined his motive, she felt that he was trying her, but she had even in such a moment sufficient presence of mind to keep her eyes steadily upon his face, and to say with seeming unconcern,
"Murder, did you say, Mr. Lupin?"
"Yes, I did say murder, and you—." He pointed at her with his finger, but finding that she only looked surprised, rather, he added—"and you are one of the elect, I rejoice to say, sister Oakley. Amen! It is a capital thing to be saved!"