“My immediate discharge would have been the consequence,” said Norris. “And how could I prove what I asserted? Doctor Spencer thought me a stupid old fool; my master would have thought me crazy; Mrs. Calverley would have thought a lunatic asylum fitter for me than Ouselcroft; and Miss Mildred would have been of the same opinion. So I held my tongue, and let things go on. Had you been at home, sir, I should have consulted you, and you could have taken such steps as you deemed proper. But it is now too late to save him.”
“If this were true it would be dreadful,” exclaimed Chetwynd. “But I cannot believe it. It must have been found out. Doctor Spencer, who is a very clever, shrewd man, has been in constant attendance on my father, and must have been struck by any unusual symptoms in his illness, but he appears to have been quite satisfied that everything was going on properly. To make an accusation of this sort, with nothing to support it, would have been culpable in the highest degree, and I am glad you kept quiet.”
“Still, I can hardly reconcile my conduct to myself, sir,” said Norris; “but I fear I should have done no good.”
“No; you would have done great mischief. I am quite certain you are utterly mistaken.”
Norris did not seem to think so, but he made no further remark.
After a brief silence he got up, and said:
“I must now go up to my master's room, and see whether he wants anything. Perhaps I may find an opportunity of speaking to him.”