Part 26 (2/2)

I left my room the next morning with a vague hope that I should find the ma.n.u.script somewhere in the study; that, in my own trance, I might have secreted it, as sleep-walkers are said to secrete things, without remembrance of their acts in their waking state.

I searched minutely in every conceivable place. Strahan found me still employed in that hopeless task. He had breakfasted in his own room, and it was past eleven o'clock when he joined me. His manner was now hard, cold, and distant, and his suspicion so bluntly shown that my distress gave way to resentment.

”Is it possible,” I cried indignantly, ”that you, who have known me so well, can suspect me of an act so base, and so gratuitously base?

Purloin, conceal a book confided to me, with full power to copy from it whatever I might desire, use its contents in any way that might seem to me serviceable to science, or useful to me in my own calling!”

”I have not accused you,” answered Strahan, sullenly. ”But what are we to say to Mr. Jeeves; to all others who know that this ma.n.u.script existed? Will they believe what you tell me?”

”Mr. Jeeves,” I said, ”cannot suspect a fellow-townsman, whose character is as high as mine, of untruth and theft. And to whom else have you communicated the facts connected with a memoir and a request of so extraordinary a nature?”

”To young Margrave; I told you so!”

”True, true. We need not go farther to find the thief. Margrave has been in this house more than once. He knows the position of the rooms. You have named the robber!”

”Tut! what on earth could a gay young fellow like Margrave want with a work of such dry and recondite nature as I presume my poor kinsman's memoir must be?”

I was about to answer, when the door was abruptly opened, and the servant-girl entered, followed by two men, in whom I recognized the superintendent of the L---- police and the same subordinate who had found me by Sir Philip's corpse.

The superintendent came up to me with a grave face, and whispered in my ear. I did not at first comprehend him. ”Come with you,” I said, ”and to Mr. Vigors, the magistrate? I thought my deposition was closed.”

The superintendent shook his head. ”I have the authority here, Dr.

Fenwick.”

”Well, I will come, of course. Has anything new transpired?”

The superintendent turned to the servant-girl, who was standing with gaping mouth and staring eyes.

”Show us Dr. Fenwick's room. You had better put up, sir, whatever things you have brought here. I will go upstairs with you,” he whispered again.

”Come, Dr. Fenwick, I am in the discharge of my duty.”

Something in the man's manner was so sinister and menacing that I felt at once that some new and strange calamity had befallen me. I turned towards Strahan. He was at the threshold, speaking in a low voice to the subordinate policeman, and there was an expression of amazement and horror in his countenance. As I came towards him he darted away without a word.

I went up the stairs, entered my bedroom, the superintendent close behind me. As I took up mechanically the few things I had brought with me, the police-officer drew them from me with an abruptness that appeared insolent, and deliberately searched the pockets of the coat which I had worn the evening before, then opened the drawers in the room, and even pried into the bed.

”What do you mean?” I asked haughtily.

”Excuse me, sir. Duty. You are-”

”Well, I am what?”

”My prisoner; here is the warrant.”

”Warrant! on what charge?”

”The murder of Sir Philip Derval.”

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