By and by Mr. Leach entered, with his fat forefinger closed in a book of sermons, which, I felt instinctively, he had been engaged in reading for the benefit of his young vultures. His smooth face was full of gentle astonishment that any one should wish to confer with him on business matters on that particular evening in the week. As I looked at him and read through his mask of hypocrisy, I knew that the man was a rogue and capable of committing any crime. When he saw who his visitor was, his astonished look changed to one of annoyance. He closed his book entirely, laying it on the table with the edifying title turned toward me.
It seems childish to mention such trivial incidents; but during that terrible time every word, every detail, seems graven upon my memory in deep lines that will never be effaced.
"I have called, Mr. Leach—" I began.
"My dear Mrs. Linton, I know why you have called. But I am sorry to be obliged to say that your errand is useless—utterly useless. Mr. Linton made a promise he has not kept. He can not blame us for the steps we have taken."
"A promise not kept?" I echoed.
"Certainly not. He undertook to pay us a large sum of money yesterday. He has not been near us—I conclude he fa ill," he added, with an approach to a sneer.
I sunk back in the wildest grief. Then all my fears of the night, all my forebodings of the day, were true! I knew that never—never again should I look on Walter's face. He had been murdered—but by whom?
Mr. Leach endeavored, after the manner of his kind, to comfort me. He placed his fat hand in a soothing way upon my arm. This action restored my senses to me.
"My husband left me only yesterday morning with the money you claim in his pocket. I know it for certain. He was going straight to you. Where is he? Tell me?"
Mr. Leach gave a start of surprise, but said nothing. I waited for his answer.