"Lady Eversleigh! I thought she left Raynham yesterday afternoon."
"So it was generally supposed; but this morning she came into the hall, and demanded to be admitted to see her dead husband. Nor was this all. She publicly declared that he had been murdered, and accused me of the crime. This is terrible, Victor."
"It is terrible, and it must be put an end to at once."
"But how is it to be put an end to?" asked Reginald. "If this woman repeats her accusations, who is to seal her lips?"
"The tables must be turned upon her. If she again accuses you, you must accuse her. If Sir Oswald were indeed murdered, who so likely to have committed the murder as this woman—whose hatred and revenge were, no doubt, excited by her husband's refusal to receive her back, after her disgraceful flight? This is what you have to say; and as every one's opinion is against Lady Eversleigh, she will find herself in rather an unpleasant position, and will be glad to hold her peace for the future upon the subject of Sir Oswald's death."
"You do not doubt my uncle died a natural death, do you, Victor?" asked Reginald, with a strange eagerness. "You do not think that he was murdered?"
"No, indeed. Why should I think so?" returned the surgeon, with perfect calmness of manner. "No one in the castle, but you and Lady Eversleigh, had any interest in his life or death. If he came to his end by any foul means, she must be the guilty person, and on her the deed must be fixed. You must hold firm, Reginald, remember."
The two men parted soon after this; but not before they had appointed to meet on the following day, at the same hour, and on the same spot. Reginald Eversleigh returned to the castle, gloomy and ill at ease, and on entering the house he discovered that the doctor from Plimborough had arrived during his absence, and was to remain until the following day, when his evidence would be required at the inquest.
It was Joseph Millard who told him this.
"The inquest! What inquest?" asked Reginald.