Part 7 (2/2)

James Carney, one of Marston's servants, was next sworn and examined. He had, he said, observed a strange and unaccountable agitation and depression in Merton's manner for some days past; he had also been several times disturbed at night by his talking aloud to himself, and walking to and fro in his room. Their bedrooms were separated by a thin part.i.tion, in which was a window, through which Carney had, on the night of the murder, observed a light in Merton's room, and, on looking in, had seen him dressing hastily. He also saw him twice take up, and again lay down, the red-hafted knife which had been found in the bed of the murdered man. He knew it by the handle being broken near the end. He had no suspicion of Merton having any mischievous intentions, and lay down again to rest. He afterwards heard him pa.s.s out of his room, and go slowly up the back-stairs leading to the upper story. Shortly after this he had fallen asleep, and did not hear or see him return. He then described, as Smith had already done, the scene which presented itself in the morning, on his accompanying him into Sir Wynston's bedchamber.

The next witness examined was a little Irish boy, who described himself as ”a poor scholar.” His testimony was somewhat singular. He deposed that he had come to the house on the preceding evening, and had been given some supper, and was afterwards permitted to sleep among the hay in one of the lofts. He had, however, discovered what he considered a snugger berth. This was an unused stable, in the further end of which lay a quant.i.ty of hay. Among this he had lain down, and gone to sleep. He was, however, awakened in the course of the night by the entrance of a man, whom he saw with perfect distinctness in the moonlight, and his description of his dress and appearance tallied exactly with those of Merton. This man occupied himself for sometime in was.h.i.+ng his hands and face in a stable bucket, which happened to stand by the door; and, during the whole of this process, he continued to moan and mutter, like one in woeful perturbation. He said, distinctly, twice or thrice, ”by ----, I am done for;” and every now and then he muttered, ”and nothing for it, after all.” When he had done was.h.i.+ng his hands, he took something from his coat-pocket, and looked at it, shaking his head; at this time he was standing with his back turned toward the boy, so that he could not see what this object might be. The man, however, put it into his breast, and then began to search hurriedly, as it seemed, for some hiding place for it. After looking at the pavement, and poking at the c.h.i.n.ks of the wall, he suddenly went to the window, and forced up the stone which formed the sill. Under this he threw the object which the boy had seen him examine with so much perplexity, and then he readjusted the stone, and removed the evidences of its having been recently stirred. The boy was a little frightened, but very curious about all that he saw; and when the man left the stable in which he lay, he got up, and following to the door, peeped after him. He saw him putting on an outside-coat and hat, near the yard gate; and then, with great caution, unbolt the wicket, constantly looking back towards the house, and so let himself out. The boy was uneasy, and sat in the hay, wide-awake, until morning. He then told the servants what he had seen, and one of the men having raised the stone, which he had not strength to lift, they found the dagger, which Smith had identified as belonging to his master. This weapon was stained with blood; and some hair, which was found to correspond in color with Sir Wynston's, was sticking in the crevice between the blade and the handle.

”It appears very strange that one man should have employed two distinct instruments of this kind,” observed Mervyn, after a pause. A silence followed.

”Yes, strange; it does seem strange,” said Marston, clearing his voice.

”Yet, it is clear,” said another of the jury, ”that the same hand did employ them. It is proved that the knife was in Merton's possession just as he left his chamber; and proved, also, that the dagger was secreted by him after he quitted the house.”

”Yes,” said Marston, with a grisly sort of smile, and glancing sarcastically at Mervyn, while he addressed the last speaker--”I thank you for recalling my attention to the facts. It certainly is not a very pleasant suggestion, that there still remains within my household an undetected murderer.”

Mervyn ruminated for a time, and said he should wish to put a few more questions to Smith and Carney. They were accordingly recalled, and examined in great detail, with a view to ascertain whether any indication of the presence of a second person having visited the chamber with Merton was discoverable. Nothing, however, appeared, except that the valet mentioned the noise and the exclamations which he had indistinctly heard.

”You did not mention that before, sir,” said Marston, sharply.

”I did not think of it, sir,” replied the man, ”the gentlemen were asking me so many questions; but I told you, sir, about it in the morning.”

”Oh, ah--yes, yes--I believe you did,” said Marston; ”but you then said that Sir Wynston often talked when he was alone; eh, sir?”

”Yes, sir, and so he used, which was the reason I did not go into the room when I heard it,” replied the man.

”How long afterwards was it when you saw Merton in your own room?”

asked Mervyn.

”I could not say, sir,” answered Smith; ”I was soon asleep, and can't say how long I slept before he came.”

”Was it an hour?” pursued Mervyn.

”I can't say,” said the man, doubtfully.

”Was it five hours?” asked Marston.

”No, Sir; I am sure it was not five.”

”Could you swear it was more than half-an-hour?” persisted Marston.

”No, I could not swear that,” answered he.

”I am afraid, Mr. Mervyn; you have found a mare's nest,” said Marston, contemptuously.

”I have done my duty, sir,” retorted Mervyn, cynically; ”which plainly requires that I shall have no doubt, which the evidence of the witness can clear up, unsifted and unsatisfied. I happened to think it of some moment to ascertain, if possible, whether more persons than one were engaged in this atrocious murder. You don't seem to think the question so important a one; different men, sir, take different views.”

”Views, sir, in matters of this sort, especially where they tend to multiply suspicions, and to implicate others, ought to be supported by something more substantial than mere fancies,” retorted Marston.

”I don't know what you call fancies,” replied Mervyn, testily; ”but here are two deadly weapons, a knife and a dagger, each, it would seem, employed in doing this murder; if you see nothing odd in that, I can't enable you to do so.”

”Well, sir,” said Marston, grimly, ”the whole thing is, as you term it, odd; and I can see no object in your picking out this particular singularity for long-winded criticism, except to cast scandal upon my household, by leaving a hideous and vague imputation floating among the members of it. Sir, sir, this is a foul way,” he cried, sternly, ”to gratify a paltry spite.”

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