The next day we saw the commissioner in company with Mr. Brown, and re-told the story which Jackson had told previous to his death. Mr. Sherwin professed that he was entirely satisfied of our innocence, ordered our names to be struck from the docket, and excused our bondsman (the inspector) from being responsible for our appearance, but insisted upon retaining Follet in custody until his uncle's injuries terminated one way or the other.
He was not kept long in suspense, for the morning after our visit, very unexpectedly, Mr. Critchet opened his eyes, and began talking in a rational manner; and although he was weak from the effect of his fever, yet he gained strength sufficient in two days to sit up, and give a clear and impartial account of the attempt to rob and murder him.
I remember the day on which his recovery was dated. I was sitting by Mr. Critchet's side, while Fred was dozing away the afternoon in the shop. The invalid opened his eyes, looked around the room in which he was lying, and then stared at me in some astonishment, as though wondering how it happened that he had been sleeping under the roof of a house, instead of his tent.
"How came I here?" he asked, raising himself from a recumbent position, and sitting up. He did not notice, at first, the many bandages which were bound around his arms and shoulders.
"I will explain all to you in a few days," I replied; "at present, you are too weak to listen to me."
"I am not too weak," the old man exclaimed, imperiously, as though accustomed to have his own way all his life time; "why should I grow weak in a single night? answer me that, if you can!"
"I don't wish to answer you now, for I fear that you cannot submit to excitement. Keep quiet for a few days, and then you shall know all," I answered, soothingly.
"There is some mystery connected with my being here that I must and will solve. Where is my nephew? Where—"
He stopped suddenly, and seemed to recollect something, for, after remaining silent for a few moments, he extended his hand, pressed my own, and then fell back upon his pillow.
"I know all," he murmured, in a low voice; "my memory is perfect from the time that I was attacked in my tent, to the hour when I fell fainting upon your doorstep."