“‘I shall go mad!’ said Harry, as his head fell on my shoulder. I could hear his heart throb and jump against his breast, as if in great commotion. ‘Can this horrible story be true? Can the devil take the shape of an angel, in order to drag the soul down to hell?’
“‘Hush, hush! Harry, there is some strange mistake connected with the affair, and I’ll risk my life on Viola’s honor.’
“‘Thank you, a thousand times, from the very bottom of my heart! but where is the cowardly villain who originated this damnable falsehood? Oh, if I could only get my hand on his accursed throat!’
“‘Let us first find out who is working these secret wires,’ said I, ‘and then we may be able to contend with the enemy with hopes of success. If Miss Bramlett ever has visited that place, she has been inveigled into it by foul and fraudulent means. She was continually searching for worthy objects of charity, and some false, sneaking scoundrel may have entrapped her into that house. How easily might she have been induced to believe that some unfortunate creature was dying in that house for want of food. I know that she would have gone there, or anywhere else, to render assistance where suffering humanity needed help. No, if this is the worst that can be said of Viola, you have reason to rejoice; for you may rest assured she will be able to explain it satisfactorily.’
“‘I believe you, and shall hear all that can be said.’
“‘No, indeed, Mr. Wallingford,’ said Dabbs, ‘far be it from me to report anything in this case except the naked truth. I have no bias for or against any one, I assure you. It is the duty of one in my position to be careful to keep his mind clear of prejudice, and to look only to the detection of crime; and if Miss Bramlett shall be able to offer a satisfactory explanation of her conduct in this instance, it will be a source of gratification to me. My mind tells me that this man Bowles had something to do with the death of young Bramlett; and if he had, I shall not stop until I can prove it. The fact that Miss Bramlett has frequently met Bowles under suspicious circumstances has been ascertained to a certainty; but after all it may, as you have suggested, be easily explained by her. A lady of Miss Bramlett’s tender age, having but little experience in the wicked ways of the world, would be a lamb in the power of such a wolf as Bowles. He is frequently out of money; and when such unprincipled scamps want funds, they would commit murder; or any other crime to get it. He is extravagant beyond measure, loves wine and women, keeps four fast trotters at Burton’s, bets high at the gaming table, and occasionally dines his friends extravagantly. Now all this costs money; and it is my opinion that Miss Bramlett’s money has largely contributed to that establishment. You know that she has within the last twelve months squandered over ten thousand dollars in cash, besides incurring debts equal to the cash spent. By her father’s will she had the right to spend the income of her inheritance—but could not touch the principal. She went through with the income, and, from all accounts, would have speedily wasted the principal, but the trustees positively refused to allow it. Her little brother did not draw any of his income at all; and when he died, his sister, of course, became the owner of his share, not only of the income, but of the entire estate. People do not commit murder without a motive. Did Miss Bramlett have a motive to murder her brother? Of course we answer unhesitatingly, Yes. What motive? what did she gain by the death of her brother? Answer—Ten thousand dollars ready cash in hand, and two hundred thousand dollars added to her inheritance. If that did not constitute a motive, I would like some one to inform me what would. Bowles was in great stress for want of money at that time, as I happen to know. The wolf may have used the lamb as his agent to get the funds he wanted. He wrote a note to Miss Bramlett in which he implored her to let him have five hundred dollars. That note was found in her dress pocket. It is the document we mentioned a moment ago, and here it is:
“‘DEAR V.—Don’t fail me to-night. Come at eight o’clock. I will be alone. I am dying to see you. For Heaven’s sake let me have the five hundred dollars, as I am in a tight place just now. I found your note under the seat in the summer house. I knew where to look for it. Of course I pressed it to my lips before I read it. When I see you we will discuss our plans more fully. If you can accomplish the business with a brave heart we shall yet be happy. I know that you have the courage to do it, if you set your mind on it. Detection would be impossible if you adopt my plan—though we will talk the matter over when I have you in my arms.
“‘Yours and yours only,
“‘B. B.’
“‘Catch Mr. Wallingford there—he has fainted!’ exclaimed Dabbs, as he sprang forward and attempted to prevent Harry from falling; but he was too late—for Harry was lying on the floor before Dabbs got to him. I was unable to render any assistance, being completely overcome with horror at hearing the contents of the letter. Most of my hopes of Viola’s innocence vanished when the note was read; Mr. Dabbs lifted Harry up and laid him on a sofa, while Tadpoddle sprinkled his face with water and took off his cravat, unbuttoning his collar—then Harry began to breathe faintly; but such a look of despair as settled on his face I never beheld there before. I was unable to offer consolation, for I was in need of it myself—the blood seemed to be freezing in my veins. It was plain that Bowles’ letter referred to the plan which had for its object the murder of Viola’s brother. The bare thought that such was the fact made my heart stand still.
“‘Have we all been deceived by this beautiful girl? Is she, after all, a cruel, calculating murderess, and the mistress of a villain? Could it be possible that one so beautiful possessed the heart of a murderess? Could it be that she who looked like the very embodiment of purity was the horrible thing that I blush to think of? Questions of that nature came pouring in on my mind; and if I had been compelled to answer, I should have been forced to admit that the evidence was overwhelming against Viola. It was plain to my mind that it would not do to depend on Harry any longer—he was more like a raving maniac than anything else. I began to fear that he would seek a quarrel with Bowles—a thing which above all others I thought should be avoided, as it would prevent the detectives from getting at the bottom of the case. If Harry should attack Bowles I knew that one or the other would be killed; and how to prevent it was the question uppermost in my mind just then. I knew all about Harry’s ungovernable temper and his lack of fear, and imagined from his looks that he had resolved on something rash—his face was pale as death. I at once divined the thoughts that were passing through his mind, and was endeavoring to invent some plan to prevent a meeting between him and Bowles, when he addressed me in a tone so low that it was not much above a whisper: