“You will recollect the house, sir?” said Albert.
“I may forget my own name,” said Learmont, “but not that house. Young sir, here is money for you; let me see you on the morning after to-morrow, and I will have news for you.”
He gave Albert his purse as he spoke, and then, without waiting for a reply, he strode from the spot, leaving the young man in great astonishment at his singular behaviour.
“Till to-morrow and then the morning after that,” said Albert, “is a precious time to control my impatience. If I could but catch the merest glance of Ada, it would help me to sustain my impatience. Oh, what a Tantalus-like state is mine, to be even now within so short a distance of her I love, and yet unable to make my presence known to her. My very voice would reach her were I to raise it above its ordinary compass, but I dare not. I have bound myself on my word of honour, and that must not be broken—farewell then, for a time, dear Ada! To-morrow, during daylight, I will try to sleep, so that when the sun has set, and I may, without fear of being seen by Jacob Gray, take up my station here, I may be able to watch the house you inhabit, and please myself with the thought of being so near you, even though I cannot see you, or speak to you. Truly I am glad the squire has left me here, for here will I remain until the morning’s light warns me of the danger of recognition by Jacob Gray if I longer tarry.”
With his arms folded on his breast, and his eyes fixed upon the window, which he pleased himself by imagining belonged to Ada’s room, Albert Seyton kept possession of the doorway.
In the meanwhile, Learmont, with feelings of exultation at his heart, strode with a hasty step towards the Chequers at Westminster.
“I have him now—I have him now,” he muttered; “I will stir Andrew Britton to destroy him, and as for this Albert Seyton, from whom, were he to live, I should prophesy much trouble, I will give him on the morning that he calls upon me, a subtle poison, in a cup of wine; but not enough shall he have to leave his body within my doors. No—the dose shall be skilfully graduated, so that some hours shall elapse ere the wild excitement passes through his system. Then he may lie down and die in the public streets or where he lists, so he is out of my way—’tis a deep skill I have obtained in poisons, and it shall do me good service.”
He then paused, and tearing a leaf from his pocket-book, he wrote on it the words which we are aware were on the note Britton received in the midst of his drunken orgies at the Chequers, and which Learmont got conveyed to him by means of a boy who was wandering houseless about the streets.
Satisfied, then, that he had everything in train for the destruction of Jacob Gray, Learmont bent his steps homewards in a more satisfied state of mind than he had ever been in before, and resolved to attempt immediately to procure some sleep, before he should thoroughly mature his yet but projected plan of murdering Gray on the next evening.
The difficulties in the way of executing the deed safely and securely were very great; for not only was Gray to be destroyed, but his written confession was to be secured before its superscription should be perceived by any one who might officiously communicate to the magistrate that such a document had been addressed to him.