A suspicion crossed the dean's mind, and he spoke in accordance with it. "Did Mr. Pym come from Alnwick on purpose to see him?"
"No," said the little surgeon, taking the glass of wine the dean passed to him, but declining other refreshment. "I have been summoned to the neighbourhood of Lexington to see a patient; and as I was on the spot, I thought I would call upon you, Dr. Beauclerc. My chief motive in doing so," he added, after a brief pause, "was to inquire whether you had any particular reason for asking me those questions."
The dean looked at Frederick St. John, as much as to say, Shall we, or shall we not confide in this medical man?
"I do not inquire from motives of idle curiosity, Dr. Beauclerc," resumed the surgeon, marking the dean's hesitation. "Believe me, I have an urgent reason for wishing to know."
"Better tell him everything," cried Frederick, who had read the dean's look, and was vehement in his earnestness. "I am sure Mr. Pym may be trusted; and perhaps he can help us with his advice."
"Very well," said the dean. "But you know, Frederick, the suspicion is more yours than mine."
"Yes, yes; I take it all upon myself," was the young man's impatient answer, so fearful was he of losing this new ally. "Mr. Pym, you have known Mrs. Carleton St. John all her life, have you not? She was Charlotte Norris."
"Yes, it may be said that I have known her all her life. I brought her into the world."
"Well, a disagreeable suspicion has recently come upon us in regard to her--upon me, that is. An awful suspicion; one that I do not like to mention."
"What is it?" cried the surgeon.