Part 60 (1/2)

CHAPTER x.x.xVII.

SOME EXCELLENT ADVICE.

Early on the following morning, there was unusual stir about Mapleton.

John Burrill was to be buried that day, and the sad funeral preparations were going on. People were moving about, making the bustle the more noticeable by their visible efforts to step softly, and by the low monotonous hum of their voices.

Up stairs, the usual quiet reigned.

Sybil was sleeping under the influence of powerful opiates, administered to insure her against the possibility of being overheard in her ravings, or of waking to a realization of the events taking place below stairs.

Evan, too, had been quieted by the use of brandy and morphine, and Mrs.

Lamotte kept watch at his bedside, while Constance, in Sybil's chamber, maintained a similar vigil. Neither of the two watchers manifested any interest in the funeral preparations, nor did they feel any.

”I shall not be present at the burial,” Mrs. Lamotte had said to her husband. ”Sybil's illness and Evan's will furnish sufficient excuse, and--nothing constrains me to do honor to John Burrill _now_.”

Mr. Lamotte opened his lips to remonstrate, but catching a look upon the face of his wife that he had learned to its fullest meaning, he closed them again and went grimly below stairs, and, through all the day previous to the departure of the funeral cortege, Jasper Lamotte was the only member of that aristocratic family who was visible to the curious gaze of the strangers who attended upon the burial preparations.

Early in the forenoon an unexpected delegation arrived at the entrance of Mapleton.

First, came Doctor Benoit, driving alone in his time-honored gig, the only vehicle he had been seen to enter within the memory of W----.

Close behind him, a carriage containing four gentlemen, all manifestly persons of more than ordinary importance, Mr. O'Meara, in fact, his colleague of the New York Bar, and two elderly, self-possessed strangers, evidently city men.

They desired a few words with Mr. Lamotte, and that gentleman, after some hesitation and no little concern as to the nature of their business at such a time, presented himself before them, looking the personification of subdued sorrow and haughty reserve.

Mr. O'Meara acted as spokesman for the party.

”Mr. Lamotte,” he began, with profound politeness and marked coldness of manner and speech, ”I should apologize for our intrusion at such a time, were it not that our errand is one of gravest importance and can not be put off. Allow me to introduce to you Mr. Wedron, Doctor Gaylor and Professor Harrington, all of New York.”

Mr. Lamotte recognized the strangers with haughty courtesy, and silently awaited disclosures.

”Mr. Wedron and myself, as the representatives and counsel of Doctor Heath, have summoned from the city these two gentlemen, whom you must know by reputation, and we desire that they be allowed to examine the body of Mr. Burrill, in order to ascertain if the wounds upon the body were actually made by the knife found with it.”

The countenance of Mr. Lamotte darkened perceptibly.

”It seems to me,” he said, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice, ”that this is an unwarrantable and useless proceeding--doubly so at this late hour.”

”Nevertheless, it is a necessary one,” broke in Mr. Wedron, crisply. ”It is presumable that you can have no personal enmity against Doctor Heath, sir; therefore you can have no reason for opposing measures instigated by justice. The examination will be a brief one.”

The resolute tone of his voice, no less than his words, brought Jasper Lamotte to his senses.

”Certainly, I have no wish to oppose the ends of justice,” he said, in a tone which, in spite of himself, was most ungracious. ”Such an investigation is naturally distasteful to me. Nevertheless, you may proceed, gentlemen, but I should not like the ladies of my household to discover what is going on. They are sufficiently nervous already. If you will excuse me for a moment, I will go up and request them to remain in their rooms for the present. After that, you are at liberty to proceed.”

They all seat themselves gravely, and Mr. Lamotte, taking this as a quiet acquiescence, goes out, and softly but swiftly up the broad stairs; not to the rooms occupied by the ladies, however, but straight on to Frank's room, where that young man has remained in solitude, ever since his unusually early breakfast hour.

”Frank,” he says, entering quietly and closing the door with great care.

”Frank, we have a delegation of doctors below stairs.”