see him," said he, turning
towards the door.

"He has been wretchedly depressed and excited for some days," said Mrs.
Marston, dejectedly, "and this dreadful occurrence will, I fear, affect
him most deplorably."

The young man kissed her tenderly and affectionately, and hurried down to
the library, where his father usually sat when he desired to be alone, or
was engaged in business. He opened the door softly. His father was
standing at one of the windows, his face haggard as from a night's
watching, unkempt and unshorn, and with his hands thrust into his
pockets. At the sound of the revolving door he started, and seeing his
son, first recoiled a little, with a strange, doubtful expression, and
then rallying, walked quickly towards him with a smile, which had in it
something still more painful.

"Charles, I am glad to see you," he said, shaking him with an agitated
pressure by both hands, "Charles, this is a great calamity, and what
makes it still worse, is that the murderer has escaped; it looks badly,
you know."

He fixed his gaze for a few moments upon his son, turned abruptly, and
walked a little way into the room then, in a disconcerted manner, he
added, hastily turning back--

"Not that it signifies to us, of course--but I would fain have justice
satisfied."

"And who is the wretch--the murderer?" inquired Charles.

"Who? Why, everyone knows!--that scoundrel, Merton," answered Marston, in
an irritated tone--"Merton murdered him in his bed, and fled last night;
he is gone--escaped--and I suspect Sir Wynston's man of being an
accessory."

"Which was Sir Wynston's bedroom?" asked the young man.

"The room that old Lady Mostyn had--the room with the portrait of Grace
Hamilton in it."

"I know--I know," said the young man, much excited. "I should wish
to see it."

"Stay," said Marston; "the door from the passage is bolted on the inside,
and I have locked the other; here is the key, if you choose to go, but
you must bring Hughes with you, and do not disturb anything; leave all as
it is; the jury ought to see, and examine for themselves."

Charles took the key, and, accompanied by the awestruck servant, he made
his way by the back stairs to the door opening from the dressing-room,
which, as we have said, intervened between the valet's chamber and Sir
Wynston's. After a momentary hesitation, Charles turned the key in the
door, and stood.

"In the dark chamber of white death."

The shutters lay partly op