"If they chooses to hang an innocent man," replied James, very philosophically, "I can't help it, I dun as I was bid."
"It's a very awkward thing having no witness in your favour but a dead man. Are you sure it was not Sir Alfred who gave you the orders? for if so, he is there, you know, to say so, which might save you."
"No, it was Sir Willoughby himself."
After a little more cross-questioning, James retired to the servants' hall, where the effect of Geoffery's interference, was just what he intended it should be: the utmost excitement existed. The one general argument in their own favour, cunningly suggested to each by Geoffery, that they would get nothing by the death of poor Sir Willoughby, was constantly recurred to, while every time this was said, the remembrance naturally suggested itself of who it was that would gain everything by the melancholy event; not that any of the household yet dared in word, or even perhaps in thought, to connect accusation or suspicion with the mental recognition of the abstract fact. The strangeness, too, of attempting to rinse the glass, and the strangeness of taking away the paper of arsenic were named, while other still stranger circumstances were from time to time, as they transpired, cautiously whispered to a chosen few, by Geoffery's man, Davison, but no one ventured to draw inferences. As the servants, however, of neighbouring families came in to make inquiries respecting the sudden demise of Sir Willoughby, already beginning to be generally known, many very extraordinary rumours soon got abroad.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Alfred, wholly unsuspicious of the evil thoughts which dwelt in the minds of others, was seated in the retirement of his own chamber, writing the melancholy announcement of Willoughby's death to Lady Arden. With the idea, however, that the knowledge of his brother's having put a period to his own existence would add much to his mother's affliction, he made no allusion to that part of the subject; nor any mention of the supposition, that Willoughby's death had been occasioned by poison; he merely stated, that it had been very sudden, and that Dr. Harman was of opinion, that something of an apoplectic fit, had been the cause.
While he was thus employed, Geoffery presented himself, and renewed his officious offers of condolence.
Alfred thanked him, but begged to be left alone. While Geoffery stood behind his cousin's chair, his restless eye (expressive at once of outlook and precaution), wandering as usual in every direction, and scanning every object, descried, as much to his astonishment as delight, in one of the recesses of the escritoire, the paper packet marked arsenic, which it may be remembered, Alfred had put there the day before. How it had got there, which to Geoffery was of course a mystery, there could be little doubt that this was the packet spoken of by the servants as missing. Here indeed was a powerful circumstance in favour of a scheme, so diabolical in purpose, so improbable in execution, that it was his wishes, not his hopes, which had first given entertainment to the thought. This monster, this creation of the evil one, was now assuming an almost palpable, or at least plausible form. If, as he had strong reason to suspect, the entire truth was known only to himself, it seemed now, no great stretch of probability to hope, that this extraordinary combination of unlooked-for circumstances might establish, by apparently irresistible evidence, the next to incredible accusation, which, could it indeed be established, would in the selfsame hour build up at once his own long despaired-of fortunes. Caution, however, must still be observed, while steps must be taken, to procure the interference of the coroner; and get him to require that the body should be opened; he must also receive a hint to search the escritoire; and the result of the coroner's inquest must decide him, whether or not it would be prudent to take any further steps. In the mean while, however, lest the poison should be removed, previously to the time of a legal search being made, he must contrive, that the packet, where it now lay, should be seen by an impartial witness. His own evidence might not be received, as he was known of course, as heir at law, to have an interest in Alfred's being proved guilty. These were his thoughts, while descending to the hall. Here he summoned Davison, and instructed him to go up to Sir Alfred's room; to enter quietly, as though fearful of disturbing him; to proceed to the back of his chair before he spoke; then to apologize for his intrusion by saying, Mr. Geoffery had sent him for his gloves, which he had laid on the table and forgotten. While pretending to search for the gloves, he was to fix an attentive eye on the part of the escritoire described to him by Geoffery, till he saw with sufficient distinctness to be able to swear to the fact, a paper packet with the word arsenic marked upon it. He was of course not to make a comment, or even allow Sir Alfred to observe the direction of his eyes.
This service punctually performed, but the gloves, which, by-the-by, were on Geoffery's hands, still unfound, Davison returned to his master, who, after ascertaining that he could swear to having seen the arsenic, added,