‘AENEAS MANSTON.’
The steward’s confession, aided by circumstantial evidence of various kinds, was the means of freeing both Anne Seaway and Miss Aldclyffe from all suspicion of complicity with the murderer.
2. SIX O’CLOCK P.M.
It was evening—just at sunset—on the day of Manston’s death.
In the cottage at Tolchurch was gathered a group consisting of Cytherea, her brother, Edward Springrove, and his father. They sat by the window conversing of the strange events which had just taken place. In Cytherea’s eye there beamed a hopeful ray, though her face was as white as a lily.
Whilst they talked, looking out at the yellow evening light that coated the hedges, trees, and church tower, a brougham rolled round the corner of the lane, and came in full view. It reflected the rays of the sun in a flash from its polished panels as it turned the angle, the spokes of the wheels bristling in the same light like bayonets. The vehicle came nearer, and arrived opposite Owen’s door, when the driver pulled the rein and gave a shout, and the panting and sweating horses stopped.
‘Miss Aldclyffe’s carriage!’ they all exclaimed.
Owen went out. ‘Is Miss Graye at home?’ said the man. ‘A note for her, and I am to wait for an answer.’
Cytherea read in the handwriting of the Rector of Carriford:—
‘DEAR MISS GRAYE,—Miss Aldclyffe is ill, though not dangerously. She continually repeats your name, and now wishes very much to see you. If you possibly can, come in the carriage.—Very sincerely yours, JOHN RAUNHAM.’