.
Nor did the questions themselves seem very pertinent to the object of
investigation.

"Pray, Dr. Fenwick," said he, knitting his brows, and fixing his eyes on
me rudely, "did Sir Philip Derval in his conversation with you mention
the steel casket which it seems he carried about with him?"

I felt my countenance change slightly as I answered, "Yes."

"Did he tell you what it contained?"

"He said it contained secrets."

"Secrets of what nature,--medicinal or chemical? Secrets which a
physician might be curious to learn and covetous to possess?"

This question seemed to me so offensively significant that it roused my
indignation, and I answered haughtily, that "a physician of any degree
of merited reputation did not much believe in, and still less covet,
those secrets in his art which were the boast of quacks and pretenders."

"My question need not offend you, Dr. Fenwick. I put it in another
shape: Did Sir Philip Derval so boast of the secrets contained in his
casket that a quack or pretender might deem such secrets of use to him?"

"Possibly he might, if he believed in such a boast."

"Humph!--he might if he so believed. I have no more questions to put to
you at present, Dr. Fenwick."

Little of any importance in connection with the deceased or his murder
transpired in the course of that day's examination and inquiries.

The next day, a gentleman distantly related to the young lady to whom
Sir Philip was engaged, and who had been for some time in correspondence
with the deceased, arrived at L----. He had been sent for at the
suggestion of the Albanian servant, who said that Sir Philip had stayed
a day at this gentleman's house in London, on his way to L----, from
Dover.

The new comer, whose name was Danvers, gave a more touching pathos to
the horror which the murder had excited. It seemed that the motives
which had swayed Sir Philip in the choice of his betrothed were
singularly pure and noble. The young lady's father--an intimate college
friend--had been visited by a sudden reverse of fortune, which had
brought on a fever that proved mortal. He had died some years ago,
leaving his only child penniless, and had bequeathed her to the care and
guardianship of Sir Philip.

The orphan received her education at a convent near Paris; and when
Sir Philip, a few weeks since, arrived in that city from the East, he
offered her his hand and fortune.

"I know," said Mr. Danvers, "from the conversation I held wit