Chetwynd Calverley. Ainsworth William Harrison

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      At length, Norris made his appearance, and explained that he could not come sooner, having had a good deal to do in Mr. Calverley’s room. Doctor Spencer had paid a visit to his patient, and had only just left.

      “However, all is quiet for the present,” said the butler, “and I will therefore beg you to come with me to my room, where I have got a little supper for you.”

      “I shall really be glad of it, Norris. I suppose we sha’n’t meet any of the other servants?”

      “No; I have taken care of that, sir,” replied Norris.

      In the butler’s pantry, to which they repaired, they found a cold pigeon-pie and a bottle of claret on the table, and being very hungry, Chetwynd made a hearty meal.

      “I’m sorry I cannot give you a very good report of what has been going on upstairs, sir,” said the butler; “though your father is not so bad as I feared. He has been put to bed, and Doctor Spencer has seen him, as I told you. The doctor gave him some stimulant that helped to revive him, and has left a small phial with Mrs. Calverley, from which she is to administer a few drops to him, as she may deem fit. I hope he may last out the night, and I think he will, for he seemed better when I left him just now. Heaven grant you may see him again, sir!”

      “I despair of doing anything with him, Norris.”

      “Never despair, sir, – never despair!”

      “Well, that’s a good maxim. Extraordinary things have sometimes been done when all has been deemed hopeless. Fresh wills have been made almost in extremis. It may be so in my father’s case, but I don’t think it likely.”

      “You must remain in the house to-night, sir. It’s your last chance.”

      “Is there a chance, Norris?”

      “You shall judge for yourself, sir. When I was in your father’s room just now, standing by his bedside, he spoke to me about you in a way that showed his good feelings towards you had returned. Evidently, he didn’t want Mrs. Calverley to hear what he said; but she was in the dressing-room, though the door was partly open. He asked me, in a low voice, if you were really gone; and seemed much relieved when I told him you were still in the house, but begged me not to mention it to his wife. ‘It may alarm, her, Norris,’ he said. I couldn’t say anything more to him at the time, for she came out of the dressing-room; but I shall have another opportunity to-night. Of one thing I’m certain, sir; but I shall have another opportunity to-night. Of one thing I’m certain, sir – you haven’t lost your hold of your father’s affections.”

      At this moment a slight sound outside caught Chet-wynd’s ear.

      Wishing to ascertain if there was a listener, he immediately got up, and, opening the door, looked along the passage right and left; but it was quite dark, and he could distinguish no one.

      “It was a false alarm,” he said, as he came back. “For the moment I fancied it might be Mrs. Calverley.”

      “No fear of that, sir; she never comes down here.”

      “Let us go back to my room. I shall feel easier there. After what you’ve told me, Norris, I shan’t think of leaving to-night.”

      “That’s the right thing to do, sir,” cried the butler, joyfully.

      “Bring the bottle of claret and the glasses with you, and come along,” said Chetwynd.

      VII. TERRIBLE SUSPICIONS

|In half a minute more they were in the old room upstairs

      The blinds were drawn down, the candles on the chimney-piece lighted, the claret and glasses set on the table, Chetwynd was seated in an easy-chair, and old Norris had taken a place opposite him.

      “Now, Norris,” said Chetwynd, “I should like to ask you a few questions. In the first place, what is the matter with my father? Till I came here this evening I have never heard he was unwell. What is his complaint? What does Doctor Spencer say about him?”

      “Doctor Spencer says it’s a complete ‘break up,’” replied the butler; “but I don’t think he understands the case at all. Your father used to be a remarkably stout man for his years, as I needn’t tell you, sir. I never recollect him having a day’s illness till his marriage; and, indeed, he was as well as ever for three months, when he caught a cold, and then a very sudden change occurred, and I thought all would soon he over with him – but he rallied.”

      “Did he quite recover from his cold?”

      “No, sir, he was much weakened, and didn’t regain his strength. He looked to me as if gradually wasting away.”

      “Why, so he was, I suppose, Norris. There is nothing but what is perfectly natural in all this; yet you seem suspicious.”

      “I hope he has been fairly treated, sir.”

      “Why should you think otherwise?”

      “Because he has symptoms that I don’t exactly like, sir.”

      Then lowering his voice, as if afraid to speak the words aloud, he added, “It looks to me almost like a case of slow poisoning!”

      Chetwynd seemed horror-stricken at the idea.

      “You must be mistaken, Norris,” he said. “It cannot he. Whatever opinion I may entertain of the person it is evident you suspect, I am certain she is incapable of such a monstrous crime. Have you mentioned your suspicions to Doctor Spencer, or any one else?”

      “I told Doctor Spencer I thought it a very strange illness, but he said there was nothing unusual in it – it was simply the result of a bad cold. ‘It was quite impossible,’ he said, ‘that Mr. Calverley could be more carefully attended to than by his wife. She had really kept him alive.’ I don’t know what he would have said if I had ventured to breathe a word against her.”

      “Did you warn my father? It was your duty to do so, if you really believed he was being poisoned.”

      “My immediate discharge would have been the consequence,” said Norris. “And how could I prove what I asserted? Doctor Spencer thought me a stupid old fool; my master would have thought me crazy; Mrs. Calverley would have thought a lunatic asylum fitter for me than Ouselcroft; and Miss Mildred would have been of the same opinion. So I held my tongue, and let things go on. Had you been at home, sir, I should have consulted you, and you could have taken such steps as you deemed proper. But it is now too late to save him.”

      “If this were true it would be dreadful,” exclaimed Chetwynd. “But I cannot believe it. It must have been found out. Doctor Spencer, who is a very clever, shrewd man, has been in constant attendance on my father, and must have been struck by any unusual symptoms in his illness, but he appears to have been quite satisfied that everything was going on properly. To make an accusation of this sort, with nothing to support it, would have been culpable in the highest degree, and I am glad you kept quiet.”

      “Still, I can hardly reconcile my conduct to myself, sir,” said Norris; “but I fear I should have done no good.”

      “No; you would have done great mischief. I am quite certain you are utterly mistaken.”

      Norris did not seem to think so, but he made no further remark.

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