"This is a bad job for you, Noah," said the old butler—"for us all; but especially for you. He was your best friend."
"It is a loss to the whole country," I cried, mournfully, shaking my head.
"And Adam Hows is off with the money!" said the steward, with a sharp eager face.
"So we suppose. Martin has been searched, but there is none in his possession. I hope the other rascal will be taken."
"Come with us, Noah, into the kitchen," cried several of the servants in a breath, "and tell us all about it. They say it was you who discovered the murder, and took the villain at the risk of your life. Come in, and take a glass of hot stuff, and give us all the particulars."
And I had to endure a fresh species of torture in recapitulating all the circumstances that I dared reveal of that revolting act; to listen to, and join in all their comments, doubts and surmises, and answer all the agonizing questions suggested by curiosity or compassion. I was beginning to feel hardened to the painful task, and answered their eager inquiries without changing countenance, or betraying more than a decent emotion on the melancholy occasion.
CHAPTER XIX.
MY MOTHER.
I was relieved from my embarrassing situation by a message from my mother. She was ill, and wished to see me, begging me to return home without a moment's delay.