Of course I said this half in jest. But it turned out to be earnest. Whether Featherston feared he might get lost if he crossed the sea alone, I can’t say; but he said I might put the question to the Squire if I liked, and he would see him later and second it.
Featherston did another thing. He carried Mary Carimon’s letter that evening to Selby Court. Colonel Selby was staying with his brother for a week’s shooting. Mr. Selby, a nervous valetudinarian, would not have gone out with a gun if bribed to it, but he invited his friends to do so. They had just finished dinner when Featherston arrived; the two brothers, and a short, dark, younger man with a rather keen but good-natured face and kindly dark eyes. He was introduced as Mr. David Preen, and turned out to be a cousin, more or less removed, of all the Preens and all the Selbys you have ever heard of, dead or living.
Featherston imparted his news to them, and showed his sister’s letter. It was pronounced to be a very curious letter, and was read over more than once. Colonel Selby next told them what he knew and what he thought of Edwin Fennel: how he had persistently schemed to get the quarterly money of the two ladies into his own covetous hands, and what a shady sort of individual he was believed to be. Mr. Selby, nervous at the best of times, let alone the worst, became painfully impressed: he seemed to fear poor Nancy was altogether in a hornet’s nest, and gave an impulsive opinion that some one of the family ought to go over with Featherston to look into things.
“Lavinia can’t have been murdered, can she?” cried he, his thoughts altogether confused; “murdered by that man for her share of the money? Why else should her ghost come back?”
“Don’t make us laugh, Paul,” said the colonel to his brother. “Ghosts are all moonshine. There are no such things.”
“I can tell you that there are, William,” returned the elder. “Though mercifully the power to see them is accorded to very few mortals on earth. Can you go with Mr. Featherston to look into this strange business, William?”
“No,” replied the colonel, “I could not possibly spare the time. Neither should I care to do it. Any inquiry of that kind would be quite out of my line.”
“I will go,” quietly spoke David Preen.
“Do so, David,” said Mr. Selby eagerly. “It shall cost you nothing, you know.” By which little speech, Featherston gathered that Mr. David Preen was not more overdone with riches than were many of the other Preens.
“Look into it well, David. See the doctor who attended Lavinia; see all and every one able to throw any light upon her death,” urged Mr. Selby. “As to Ann, she was lamentably, foolishly blamable to marry as she did, but she must not be left at the villain’s mercy now things have come to this pass.”