you already know."
Charles listened with breathless attention to this recital, and, after apainful interval, said--
"Then the actual murderer is, after all, unascertained. This is, indeed,horrible; it was very natural that my father should have felt the dangerto which such a disclosure would have exposed the reputation of ourfamily, yet I should have preferred encountering it, were it ten times asgreat, to the equivocal prudence of suppressing the truth with respect toa murder committed under my own roof."
"He has, however, it would seem, arrived at some new conclusions," saidDr. Danvers, "and is now prepared to throw some unanticipated light uponthe whole transaction."
Even as they were talking, a knocking was heard at the hall-door, andafter a brief and hurried consultation, it was agreed, that, consideringthe strict condition of privacy attached to this visit by Mr. Marstonhimself, as well as his reserved and wayward temper, it might be betterfor Charles to avoid presenting himself to his father on this occasion. Afew seconds afterwards the door opened, and Mr. Marston entered theapartment. It was now dark, and the servant, unbidden, placed candlesupon the table. Without answering one word to Dr. Danvers' greeting,Marston sat down, as it seemed, in agitated abstraction. Removing his hatsuddenly (for he had not even made this slight homage to the laws ofcourtesy), he looked round with a care-worn, fiery eye, and a palecountenance, and said--
"We are quite alone, Dr. Danvers--no one anywhere near?"
Dr. Danvers assured him that all was secure. After a long and agitatedpause, Marston said--
"You remember Merton's confession. He admitted his intention to killBerkley, but denied that he was the actual murderer. He spoke truth--noone knew it better than I; for I am the murderer."
Dr. Danvers was so shocked and overwhelmed that he was utterlyunable to speak.
"Aye, sir, in point of law and of morals, literally and honestly, themurderer of Wynston Berkley. I am resolved you shall know it all. Makewhat use of it you will--I care for nothing now, but to get rid of thed----d, unsustainable secret, and that is done. I did not intend to killthe scoundrel when I went to his room; but with the just feelings ofexasperation with which I regarded him, it would have been wiser had Iavoided the interview; and I meant to have done so. But his candle wasburning; I saw the light through the door, and went in. It was his evilfortune to indulge in his old strain of sardonic impertinence. Heprovoked me; I struck him--he struck me again--and with his own dagger Istabbed him three times. I did not know what I had done; I could notbelieve it. I felt neither remorse nor sorrow--why should I?--but thething was horrible, astounding. There he sat in the corner of hiscushioned chair, with the old fiendish smile on still. Sir, I neverthought that any human shape could look so dreadful. I don't know howlong I stayed there, freezing with horror and detestation, and yetunable to take my eyes from the face. Did you see it in the coffin? Sir,there was a sneer of triumph on it that was diabolic and prophetic."
Marston was fearfully agitated as he spoke, and repeatedly wiped from hisface the cold sweat that gathered there.
"I could not leave the room by the back stairs," he resumed, "for thevalet slept in the intervening chamber. I felt such an appalled antipathyto the body, that I could scarcely muster courage to pass it. But, sir, Iam not easily cowed--I mastered this repugnance in a few minutes--or,rather, I acted spite of it, I knew not how; but instinctively itseemed to me that it was better to lay the body in the bed, than leave itwhere it was, shewing, as its position might, that the thing occurred inan altercation. So, sir, I raised it, and bore it softly across the room,and laid it in the bed; and, while I was carrying it, it swayed forward,the arms glided round my neck, and the head rested against my cheek--thatwas a parody upon a brotherly embrace!
"I do not know at what moment it was, but some time when I was carryingWynston, or laying him in the bed," continued Marston, who spoke ratherlike one pursuing a horrible reverie, than as a man relating facts to alistener, "I heard a light tread, and soft breathing in the lobby. Athunderclap would have stunned me less that minute. I moved softly,holding my breath, to the door. I believe, in moments of strongexcitement, men hear more acutely than at other times; but I thought Iheard the rustling of a gown, going from the door again. I waited--itceased; I waited until all was quiet. I then extinguished the candle, andgroped my way to the door; there was a faint light in the corridor, and Ithought I saw a head projected from the chamber-door, next to theFrenchwoman's--mademoiselle's. As I came on, it was softly withdrawn,and the door not quite noiselessly closed. I could not be absolutelycertain, but I learned all afterward. And now, sir, you have the story ofSir Wynston's murder."
Dr. Danvers groaned in spirit, being wrung alike with fear and sorrow.With hands clasped, and head bowed down, in an exceeding bitter agony ofsoul, he murmured only the words of the Litany--"Lord, have mercy uponus; Christ, have mercy upon us; Lord, have mercy upon us."
Marston had recovered his usual lowering aspect and gloomyself-possession in a few moments, and was now standing erect and defiantbefore the humbled and afflicted minister of God. The contrast wasterrible--almost sublime.
Doctor Danvers resolved to keep this dreadful secret, at least for atime, to himself. He could not make up his mind to inflict upon thosewhom he loved so well as Charles and Rhoda the shame and agony of such adisclosure; yet he was sorely troubled, for his was a conflict of dutyand mercy, of love and justice.
He told Charles Marston, when urged with earnest inquiry, that what hehad heard that evening was intended solely for his own ear, and gentlybut peremptorily declined telling, at least until some future time, thesubstance of his father's communication.
Charles now felt it necessary to see his father, for the purpose ofletting him know the substance of the letter respecting "mademoiselle"and the late Sir Wynston which had reached him. Accordingly, heproceeded, accompanied by Doctor Danvers, on the next morning, to thehotel where Marston had intimated his intention of passing the night.
On their inquiring for him in the hall, the porter appeared muchperplexed and disturbed, and as they pressed him with questions, hisanswers became conflicting and mysterious. Mr. Marston was there--he hadslept there last night; he could not say whether or not he was then inthe house; but he knew that no one could be admitted to see him. Hewould, if the gentlemen wished it, send their cards to (not Mr. Marston,but) the proprietor. And, finally, he concluded by begging that theywould themselves see "the proprietor," and dispatched a waiter to apprisehim of the circumstances of the visit. There was something odd and evensinister in all this, which, along with the whispering and the curiousglances of the waiters, who happened to hear the errand on which theycame, inspired the two companions with vague misgivings, which they didnot care mutually to disclose.
In a few moments they were shown into a small sitting room up stairs,where the proprietor, a fussy little gentleman, and apparently veryuneasy and frightened, received them.
"We have called here to see Mr. Marston," said Doctor Danvers, "and theporter has referred us to you."
"Yes, sir, exactly--precisely so," answered the little man, fidgetingexcessively, and as it seemed, growing paler every instant; "but--but, infact, sir, there is, there has been--in short, have you not heard ofthe--the accident?"
He wound up with a prodigious effort, and wiped his forehead whenhe had done.
"Pray, sir, be explicit: we are near friends of Mr. Marston; in fact,sir, this is his son," said Doctor Danvers, pointing to Charles Marston;"and we are both uneasy at the reserve with which our inquiries have beenmet. Do, I entreat of you, say what has happened?"
"Why--why," hesitated the man, "I really--I would not for fivehundred pounds it had happened in my house. The--the unhappygentleman has, in short--"
He glanced at Charles, as if afraid of the effect of the disclosure hewas on the point of making, and then hurriedly said--"He is dead, sir; hewas found dead in his room, this morning, at eight o'clock. I assure youI have not been myself ever since."
Charles
Marston was so stunned by this sudden blow, that he was upon thepoint of fainting. Rallying, however, with a strong effort, he demandedto be conducted to the chamber where the body lay. The man assented, buthesitated on reaching the door, and whispered something in the ear ofDoctor Danvers, who, as he heard it, raised his hands and eyes with amute expression of horror, and turning to Charles, said--
"My dear young friend, remain where you are for a few moments. I willreturn to you immediately, and tell you whatever I have ascertained. Youare in no condition for such a scene at present."
Charles, indeed, felt that the fact was so, and, sick and giddy, sufferedDoctor Danvers, with gentle compulsion, to force him into a seat.
In silence the venerable clergyman followed his conductor. With apalpitating heart he advanced to the bedside, and