Reasoning thus, he argued himself into a more placid mode, and then the dark feelings of hate, revenge, and gloomy triumphs, which, for a time, had been overpowered and forced to hide their diminished heads in consequence of his great excitements, once more rose, phœnix like, from their ashes, and the wild scheming, blood-stained villain smiled, as he glanced round him upon the magnificence with which he was surrounded, and which he thought would soon be all his own, without the shadow of fear being cast over them.
“By the powers of hell!” he cried, “I will still let them see that I can live right royally in my noble halls. When last I met the Minister of State, methought he looked strangely at me, and he certainly did, upon some most shallow and slight excuse, put me off when I spoke of my baronetcy, promised as it has been for so long. That magistrate too—that Hartleton, who I so deeply hate. There was a sneer, too, upon his face when I saw him last, as if he would have said,—‘Learmont, your fate is hurrying on, and I shall triumph over you.’ Ha! Ha! My best sense of security lies in the fact that he leaves me alone. Could he but get up the shadow of a charge against me, how gladly would he strive to blacken me and my fame in the eyes of those who, despite him, will yet heap honours on my head. Sir Francis Harleton, I know you well as my active enemy, and while I am unmolested by you, I am safe indeed. I will persevere, most certainly, in my intention of giving a fête on Saturday, which shall surpass, in richness and magnificence, any that have yet been vaunted highly by my crowds of visitors—visitors whom I despise, but yet find useful as tools to work out my great scheme of ambition.”
Learmont then rung for his servants, and with a malignant pleasure caused the cards of invitation to his grand masked ball for the Saturday to be sent to Hartleton and to the minister.
“I will vex the very soul of this Hartleton,” he said, “by the gorgeous display of wealth I will make.”
A shade of care then suddenly came across his brow, as for the first time since his departure from the house of Gray, he thought upon the promised visit of Albert Seyton.
“Ha,” he cried, “my young secretary, I had nearly forgotten him. Will he prove troublesome? Did he catch a glimpse of me at Gray’s? No—no—that he did not—and if he did—well. The shortest plan of operation with regard to him is to give him more hopes, no matter how slenderly based; and along with them a cup of wine, which shall contain an insidious drug. Yes, I will poison him, and then send him some long errand to a distant part of the country, which he will never live to return from—a safe way—a most safe way. So shall I be rid of him without the—the—horror (Learmont shuddered as he spoke) of seeing such another death, perhaps, as that I would fain blot from my memory for ever, but which rises gaunt and bloody ever before my mental eye. I must not think of it. My fête—my brilliant fête—my baronetcy—ah, those are grateful imaginings.”
The receipt of Learmont’s card of invitation to Sir Francis Hartleton we are already aware of, and in the course of the day its presence, as it lay before him gave the magistrate an idea, which, if it could be successfully carried out, would have some time in the apprehension of the guilty squire, as well as, in all probability, force some sudden recognition of Ada and her rights. Besides, it was, at all events, important, that, as he, Sir Francis Hartleton, had given his promise to the Secretary of State that Learmont should not be molested until after the Saturday’s fête, the squire should not be led to suspect that any of his plans had failed, or that any immediate danger beset him.
For the purpose of preventing such a thing from occurring, Sir Francis Hartleton proposed to Albert Seyton that he should see Learmont on that evening, in pursuance of the arrangement which had been entered into between him and the squire.
Another difficulty, or rather a doubt, beset this line of proceeding, however, and that was to know whether the squire was aware, or not, of the fact of Albert having been present at the house in which Gray was murdered on the night, or rather morning, of that event. To solve this question, or, at all events, to render it an innocuous one, Sir Francis Hartleton advised that Albert should take with him to the squire’s an exact copy of the confession of Jacob Gray, and hand it to him, admitting that, seeing the door of Gray’s house open, he had entered and become possessed of the document by the accidental tearing of a cloak in which it was concealed.
“Such a step on our parts,” said Sir Francis, “must have the effect of thoroughly disarming Learmont of all suspicion of his danger; and since his friend, the Secretary of State, has him so much under his special protection, on account of his parliamentary influence, I should like very much to let him see, personally, what a beautiful protégé he has, and make the masked ball the scene of his apprehension.”