A CLEVER DIPLOMATIST.
“Doctor Heston, you surprise me.There
was the inquest.”
“Yes, where my opinion, sir,
was overruled by the coroner and my colleague, both
elderly medical men, sir, while I am young and comparatively
inexperienced.You are disposed to think that
this is a case of professional jealousy.”
“I will be frank with you.I did think
so.”
“Exactly, but pray disabuse
your mind.I am not jealous.I am angry
with myself for giving way in that case.It seemed
all very straightforward, but it was not.”
“May I ask what you mean?”
“I mean, sir, that I am certain
that our poor old Indian friend did not die from the
blow that he received from that life-preserver.”
“How then?” said Capel, huskily.
“It seems to me that he must
have been poisoned in some way or another, and I could
not rest without coming to you.”
“Oh, impossible.”
“Perhaps so, sir, but I am telling
you what I believe.Do you think he had any
enemies here?”
“Oh, no; the servants seemed
to have been on friendly terms.”
“Well, it hardly seems like it.”
“That wretch must have yielded
to a terrible temptation,” said Capel, “and
the other was defending his master’s goods.”
“What goods?” said the doctor.
Capel was silent.
“I see, sir, there is more mystery
about this than you care to explain.Was there
some heavy sum of money in the late Colonel’s
room, and were these two men in league?”
“I don’t think they were in league.”
“Was any one else interested in the matter?”
“Oh, no; impossible,”
said Capel, half aloud.“Dr Heston, I am
afraid there is a good deal of imagination in what
you say.Let me try and disabuse your mind.”
“I should be glad if you could.”
Capel paced the room for a few minutes.
“This has taken me quite by
surprise, Doctor Heston,” he said.“Give
me a little time to think it over.Will you
keep perfectly private all that you have said to me?”
“I don’t like to suspect
men unjustly, and yet I’m afraid I’ve done
wrong, in giving him time,” said the doctor,
as he went down.“Well, a week is not
an age.”
As soon as he had left, Paul Capel
let his head go down upon his hands, for his brain
seemed to be in a whirl the death of Ramo the
disappearance of the fortune the visit of
the doctor.
It only wanted this latter, with the
hints he had thrown out, to fire a train of latent
suspicion in the young man’s mind.
There was that open window that the
policeman had declared had not been used.Was
he wrong?Had others been in the conspiracy and
turned afterwards on Ramo and Charles?They
might have been in the plot.Or, again, they
might have been defending their master’s wealth
against the wretch who had escaped with the treasure
by the open window.
Those three Italians!
Had they anything to do with the matter?
The old butler!He seemed so
quiet and innocent!But often beneath an air
of innocency, crime found a resting place.
Then he found himself suspecting Mr
Girtle, and on the face of the evidence Capel laid
before himself, the case looked very black.He
knew everything; he held the keys he, the
old friend and companion, had been left merely a signet
ring.
“Impossible!” cried Capel,
half aloud; “I might as well suspect Artis,
or Miss Lawrence, or Katrine herself.”
“May I come in,” said
a voice that sent a thrill through the thinker, and
Katrine D’Enghien stood in the doorway.
“Come in?Yes,”
cried Capel, advancing to meet her with open hands,
and moved by an impulse that he could not withstand.
“Is anything the matter,” she said simply.
“Yes no yes,
a great deal is the matter,” cried Capel.“There, I must speak to you.”
“Mr Capel!” she said, half in alarm.
“Forgive me if I seem impetuous,”
he cried, “but I am greatly troubled in mind,
and I feel as if I would give anything for the sympathy
of one who would listen to my troubles, and help me
with her counsel.”
“Surely you have all our sympathy,
Mr Capel,” said Katrine, innocently.
“Yes, I hope so,” he cried
earnestly, “but I want more than that, Katrine.You must know that I love you.”
“Mr Capel!”
“Pray do not be angry with me.”
“Is this a time or season to
make such a declaration to me, Mr Capel?” said
Katrine, softly.
“For some things no,
for other things yes.I am in such
sore need of help and counsel, such as could be given
me by the woman who returned my love.No, no;
don’t leave me.Hear me out.As soon
as I heard that will read, it filled my heart with
joy, for it told me that I was rich, and that these
were riches which I could share with you.Then,
when the discovery was made that the treasure had
been stolen, it was not the wealth that I regretted,
but I despaired because it seemed that you were farther
from me.But listen to me.I am trying
hard to discover how this large fortune has been swept
away.”
Katrine’s eyes glittered.
“Help me in my endeavours, and
tell me this some day if I make the discovery,
and am once more in a position to ask you to be my
wife you will listen to me?”
She raised her beautiful eyes to his,
and he caught her hand.
It was withdrawn, and she said softly:
“I am sorry you should think me so sordid.”
“Then you love me,” he cried.
“I made no such confession.The man to whom I give my hand will not be chosen
for the sake of his money.”
“Then I may hope?” he cried.
“Mr Capel, is it not your duty to find your
fortune?”
“Yes, but let me say, our fortune,” he
cried.
“Mr Capel, do not speak to me
again like this.I should feel that I was standing
in your light if I listened now.”
“But at some future time?”
She looked at him softly, and his
breath went and came fast, as her speaking eyes rested
on his, and he saw the damask-red deepen in her cheeks.
“Wait till that future time comes,” she
whispered.
“And you will help me?” he cried.
“Yes,” she said, at last, “I will
help you all I can.”
He would have caught her in his arms, but she raised
her hand.
“I thought we were to be friends.”
“Friends,” he whispered.“I
love you.”
“It must be then as a friend,”
she said, in her low voice; but there was that in
her look which made Capel’s heart throb, while,
when she extended her hand, he kissed it, without
being aware that Lydia had entered the room, and drawn
back, with a weary look of misery in her face that
she vainly sought to hide.