|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.
After a brief silence he got up, and said:
“I must now go up to my master's room, and see whether he wants
anything. Perhaps I may find an opportunity of speaking to him.”