CHAPTER XXXVI.
The belief prevalent in the town ascribed the murder of Sir Philip to the
violence of some vulgar robber, probably not an inhabitant of L----. Mr.
Vigors did not favour that belief. He intimated an opinion, which seemed
extravagant and groundless, that Sir Philip had been murdered, for the
sake not of the missing purse, but of the missing casket. It was
currently believed that the solemn magistrate had consulted one of his
pretended clairvoyants, and that this impostor had gulled him with
assurances, to which he attached a credit that perverted into egregiously
absurd directions his characteristic activity and zeal.
Be that as it may, the coroner's inquest closed without casting any light
on so mysterious a tragedy.
What were my own conjectures I scarcely dared to admit,--I certainly could
not venture to utter them; but my suspicions centred upon Margrave. That
for some reason or other he had cause to dread Sir Philip's presence in
L---- was clear, even to my reason. And how could my reason reject all
the influences which had been brought to bear on my imagination, whether
by the scene in the museum or my conversation with the deceased? But it
was impossible to act on such suspicions,--impossible even to confide
them. Could I have told to any man the effect produced on me in the
museum, he would have considered me a liar or a madman. And in Sir
Philip's accusations against Margrave, there was nothing
tangible,--nothing that could bear repetition. Those accusations, if
analyzed, vanished into air. What did they imply?--that Margrave was a
magician, a monstrous prodigy, a creature exceptional to the ordinary
conditions of humanity. Would the most reckless of mortals have ventured
to bring against the worst of characters such a charge, on the authority
of a deceased witness, and to found on evidence so fantastic the awful
accusation of murder? But of all men, certainly I--a sober, practical
physician--was the last whom the public could excuse for such incredible
implications; and certainly, of all men, the last against whom any
suspicion of heinous crime would be readily entertained was that joyous
youth in whose sunny aspect life and conscience alike seemed to keep
careless holiday. But I could not overcome, nor did I attempt to reason
against, the horror akin to detestation, that had succeeded to the
fascinating attraction by which Margrave had before conciliated a liking
founded rather on admiration than esteem.
In order to avoid his visits I kept away from the study in which I had
habitually spent my mornings, and to which he had been accustomed to so
ready an access; and if he called at the front door, I directed my servant
to tell him that I was either from home or engaged. He did attempt for
the first few days to visit me as before, but when my intention to shun
him became thus manifest, desisted naturally enough, as any other man so
pointedly repelled would have done.
I abstained from all those houses in which I was likely to meet him, and
went my professional round of visits in a close carriage, so that I might
not be accosted by him in his walks.
One morning, a very few days after Strahan had shown me Sir Philip
Derval's letter, I received a note from my old college acquaintance,
stating that he was going to Derval Court that afternoon; that he should
take with him the memoir which he had found, and begging me to visit him
at his new home the next day, and commence my inspection of the
manuscript. I consented eagerly.
That morning, on going my round, my carriage passed by another drawn up to
the pavement, and I recognized the figure of Margrave standing beside the
vehicle, and talking to some one seated within it. I looked back, as my
own carriage whirled rapidly by, and saw with uneasiness and alarm that it
was Richard Strahan to whom Margrave was thus familiarly addressing
himself. How had the two made acquaintance?
Was it not an outrage on Sir Philip Derval's memory, that the heir he had
selected should be thus apparently intimate with the man whom he had so
sternly denounced? I became still more impatient to read the memoir: in
all probability it would give such explanations with respect to Margrave's
antecedents, as, if not sufficing to criminate him of legal offences,
would at least effectually terminate any acquaintance between Sir Philip's
successor and himself.
All my thoughts were, however, diverted to channels of far deeper interest
even than those in which my mind had of late been so tumultuously whirled
along, when, on returning home, I found a note from Mrs. Ashleigh. She
and Lilian had just come back to L----, sooner than she had led me to
anticipate. Lilian had not seemed quite well the last day or two, and had
been anxious to return.
