“Ah, no doubt. You are quite right—good morning, Sir Francis, good morning.”
“Good morning, your lordship.”
Sir Francis Hartleton could not help laughing as he walked homewards at the curious morality of the secretary, who measured everybody’s importance by their number of votes, and he thought to himself surely this system of representation will be some day done away with, and Englishmen will be permitted to exercise their franchise and their conscience freely. Absorbed then in meditation concerning the important steps which required to be taken previous to the Friday evening, beyond which time Sir Francis Hartleton was quite resolved Learmont should not remain at liberty, he sauntered home from the minister’s.
Believing, as the magistrate now did, since Jacob Gray was dead, and no written papers could be found about his person, or in his lodging, that no overt act as concerned Ada could be brought home to Learmont, he resolved to have a warrant made out for the squire’s apprehension, on the charge of murdering Jacob Gray, a crime which upon the testimony of Albert could be brought as nearly home to him as strong circumstantial evidence could bring it.
“It may be then,” thoughts Sir Francis, “that when he sees his mortal career closing, he will do one act of grace, and declare who and what Ada is; detailing his reasons for persecuting her so strangely, and for taking the life of Jacob Gray. That now seems to be the only chance of arriving at a solution of the mysteries which still envelope this whole strange transaction.”
When Sir Francis reached home a letter was put into his hands, which, upon opening, he found to contain these words,—
Mr. Learmont presents his compliments to Sir Francis Hartleton, and begs specially to request his company on Friday evening, to a masked ball and supper.
“Well,” said Sir Francis, “of all the cool pieces of assurance that it was ever my lot to encounter, this is the coolest. But I can well understand Learmont’s feelings now; he fancies himself rid of some great danger by the death of Jacob Gray, and this is the very mockery and insolence of security in inviting me, who he hates so cordially, to his entertainments. Well, be it so, I will be there, Learmont, and it shall go hard but your masked ball shall have a far different conclusion to what you imagine. Let me see, this ticket admits Sir Francis Hartleton and friends—friends. Yes, that will do—that will do. A plan of operation occurs to me, which on the surprise of the moment may wring from the guilty heart of Learmont something of importance to the interests of Ada. She shall go with me to this masked ball. Yes, Learmont shall be surprised from his usual cold caution by her sudden appearance, which, conjoined with his arrest, may so disturb his faculties as almost to induce a confession of all we wish to know. It shall be tried—it shall be tried.”
CHAPTER CXI.
The Confession.