CHAPTER VII. PAUL MORTON HAS A VISITOR.
Paul Morton's consternation can hardly be described, when, in the number who had come to witness the funeral ceremonies of Ralph Raymond, he recognized the shopman in the obscure druggist's shop where he had purchased the poison. The sweat stood out upon his brow, and he eagerly questioned himself—how much did this man know, or what did he suspect, or was his presence purely accidental?
But he could hardly believe that a man in such a position would attend the funeral, unless he had some object in view. How had he found out his name and residence? Was it possible that he had been tracked?
He looked furtively at the young man, now grown an object of strange and dread interest to him. He noted his insignificant features, and the general meanness of his appearance, and he began to pluck up courage.
"Suppose he does suspect anything," he thought; "will his testimony be believed against mine? A miserable druggist's clerk, probably on a starvation salary. At the worst I can buy him off for a small sum."
Reassured by these thoughts, he recovered his boldness, and in looking about him, did not hesitate to meet the gaze of James Cromwell, without suffering a trace of the first agitation to be seen.
But that first agitation had been observed at the time by the druggist's clerk, and he had drawn his own conclusions from it.
"He has used the poison," he said to himself, "and it is for that reason that my presence alarms him," he said.