Witness to the Deed Part 55

There was no reply, but the effort he had made over himself had somewhat restored his balance, and he felt ready to laugh at his childish fears.

"Has he gone, and left me locked in?" he thought, after striving in vain to hear a sound.

Improbable; for he had not heard the door open or close, and he would have seen the dim light from the staircase.

No, not if Stratton had softly pa.s.sed through the inner door and closed it after him before opening the outer.

"Here, I must act," he said to himself, mentally strung once more. "He couldn't have played me such a fool's prank as that. Now, where am I?

The writing table should be straight out there."

He stretched forth his hand cautiously, and touched something which moved. It was a picture in the middle of a panel, hanging by a fine wire from the rod, and Guest faced round sharply with a touch of his old dread, for he knew now that he had been for long enough standing in a position that would give his enemy--if enemy Stratton was--an opportunity for striking him down from behind.

With the idea growing upon him that his alarm had all been vain, and that Stratton must have gone straight out the moment he had turned down the lamp--either in his absent state forgetting his presence, or imagining that he had gone on out--Guest felt now a strange kind of irritability against himself, and, with the dread completely gone, he began to move cautiously, and pausing step by step, till his outstretched hands came in contact with a bronze ornament, which fell into the fender with a loud clang.

Guest started round once more, knowing exactly where he stood, and facing Stratton, who seemed to have sprung out of his seat.

"Who's there?" he cried fiercely.

"Who's there?" retorted Guest. "Why, what's come to you, man? Where are your lights? Bah!" he added to himself, "have I lost my head, too?"

As he spoke he drew a little silver case from his vest pocket, and struck a wax match, whose bright light showed his friend sunk back in the chair by the writing table, gazing wildly in his face.

A glance showed Guest a candle in a little holder on the mantelpiece, and applying the match, in another moment the black horror had given place to his friend's room, with Stratton looking utterly prostrate, and unworthy of a moment's dread.

Guest's words partook of his feeling of annoyance with himself at having given his imagination so much play.

"Here, what's come to you, man?" he cried, seizing Stratton roughly by the shoulder.

"Come to me? I--I--don't know."

"Have you been sitting there ever since you put out the light?"

"Yes--I think so."

"But you heard me speak to you?"

"No; I think not. What did you say?"

"He's trembling like a leaf," thought Guest. "Worse than I was."

Then aloud:

"I say, you had better have a gla.s.s of grog, and then go to bed. I'll stop with you if you like."

"Here? No, no; come along. It must be getting late."

He made for the door and opened it, signed to Guest to come, and stood waiting.

"All right; but don't leave that candle burning, man. You seem determined to burn down this place."

Stratton uttered a curious little laugh, and hastily crossed the room to the mantelpiece, while Guest stood holding the door open, so as to admit a little light.

The next minute they were on the landing, and Stratton, with trembling fingers, carefully locked the door.

"Now," said Guest, "about poor old Brettison? What do you say? Shall we give notice to the police?"

"No, no," cried Stratton angrily. "It is absurd! He will come back some day. See me home, please, old fellow. My head--all confused and strange. I want to get back as soon as I can."

Guest took his arm to the entrance of the inn, called a cab, and did not leave him till he was safe in his rooms at Sarum Street, after which the young barrister returned to his own chambers to think over the events of the evening in company with a pipe.

"Takes all the conceit out of a fellow," he mused, "to find what a lot of his old childish dread remains when he has grown up. Why, I felt then--Ugh! I'm ashamed to think of it all. Poor old Stratton! he doesn't know what he's about half his time. I believe he has got what the doctors call softening of the brain. Strikes me, after to-night's work," he added thoughtfully, "that I must have got it, too."

He refilled his pipe and went on thinking.

"How he started, and how strange he seemed when I talked about the possibility of the poor old fellow lying there dead. Only a fancy of mine. How does the old saying go: 'Fancy goes a great way'? There, I've had enough fancy for one night."

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

A MODERN INQUISITION.

The next day was a busy one for Guest. He had to attend court, and in the afternoon he stole a visit to Miss Jerrold, where, by "the merest chance," he found Edie, who was also there by "the merest chance," but they had a long chat about their invalids, as they termed them, and then Guest spoke of his ideas respecting Brettison.

"And you sit here talking to me?" she said. "Why, you ought to be having the place searched."

"You think so, too?"

"Of course, and without loss of time. Why, Percy, he may have known all about Malcolm Stratton's trouble, and now the chance has gone forever."

"Steady, steady!" said Guest, smiling at the girl's impetuosity. "Don't let your imagination run away with you. It's rather bad sometimes."

He left almost directly, and was half disposed to go straight to the police-station nearest the inn; but it occurred to him that he had stirred Stratton a good deal on the previous night, and that if he could get his friend's interest full upon this matter it would be a good thing.

"I dare say it will all turn out to be nothing--mere imagination," he thought; "but, even if it is, it may do something to get the poor fellow out of this morbid state. After all, Brettison may be there."

But Guest felt so little upon the matter that he did not hurry to his friend's rooms till after dinner, and, to his surprise, found that he was either not in or obstinately determined not to be interrupted, for there was no reply to his knocking.

"I'll get him to let me have a latchkey," he thought, "for he is not fit to be left alone."

On the chance of Stratton being there he went on to Benchers' Inn, and, to his surprise and satisfaction, he saw a light in the room.

After a few minutes his knock was responded to, and he was admitted.

"You have come again, then," said Stratton reproachfully.

"Of course," replied Guest, and he s.n.a.t.c.hed at the idea again about Brettison. "Look here," he said, "I have made up my mind that the proper thing to do is to have that room entered. Brettison has been away months, and it ought to be done."

"But you have no authority," said Stratton uneasily.