“The assassin, too, of Jacob Gray?”
“The same.”
“And he, the stout bulky man, whom I saw enter Gray’s abode with the squire?”
“He is Andrew Britton, the smith, the associate in guilt of the Squire Learmont. You were made a mere tool to assist in the destruction of Jacob Gray, who, no doubt, was troublesome on account of his rapacity, and dangerous on account of the written confession he kept by him, and which, has so providentially and strangely fallen into my hands.”
Albert Seyton looked perfectly petrified with astonishment for a time. Then, in a voice of emotion, he said,—
“Oh, Heaven, how near was I proving your worst enemy, my Ada, by too credulously becoming a victim to the arts of the man, who, of all others in the wide world, you had most to dread.”
“I can scarcely understand all this,” said Ada. “You must relate everything to me, Albert, in a more connected manner. Is this Learmont a tall, dark man, with a face of death-like paleness?”
“He is,” said Albert.
“And he is my father’s brother?”
“I grieve to say that such is the fact,” said Sir Francis Hartleton. “The law must take cognisance of Jacob Gray’s murder, and that will most probably be the only one of Learmont’s crimes that can be satisfactorily proved against him. A word with you, Mr. Seyton.”