The cupboard door was only fastened with a button, and Jacob Gray turned cautiously. The door, from the pressure of something inside, immediately came wide open. A cry of terror burst from Jacob Gray, as a dead body apparently frightfully mangled, fell at his feet.
CHAPTER LXXIX.
The Interview between Albert and Learmont.—The Promise, and Albert’s Relation.
Albert Seyton was punctual to his appointment with Learmont, and after waiting for ten minutes, was ushered into the small room in which the miserable squire usually sat.
Days seemed to be doing the work of years upon Learmont. His coal-black hair was tinged with grey, and there were deep furrows on his cheeks, which were of that dead ashy-looking white colour, if colour it could be called at all, that the former sallow tint of his complexion had recently given way to.
Take his appearance altogether as he there sat in a chair, the back of which was placed against the wall with a table and writing materials before him, he looked a man to be shunned or pitied, according as the observer might translate his looks to imply disease of body, or that worse disease of the mind resulting from a perturbed conscience.
He slightly started as Albert entered the room, and then, in reply to his bow, he said in a hollow voice, which sounded as if it came from the lips of a corpse risen from the grave,—
“Good day, young sir.”
“Good day, sir,” replied Albert. “I am here in obedience to your command.”
“Yes—yes,” muttered Learmont, leaning his head upon his hand. “You are here, and punctual—very punctual.” He then seemed to fall into a fit of abstraction, and added, “He is not here. Can he have taken alarm? Or he will be here anon?”