You think of the horror of it in
a shadowy kind of way, as you might think of having a snake twisted round
your waist and legs, like that blessed man and boys one never sees the
last of. But if you were to look at that plaster cast all your life, you
couldn't realize ten per cent of the horror you'd feel if the snake was
_there_, alive, crushing your bones, and hissing in your ear. I have been
face to face with murder, Valentine Hawkehurst; and if I were to live a
century, I should never forget what I felt when I stood by Tom Halliday's
deathbed, and it flashed upon me, all at once, that my brother Phil was
poisoning him."
"And you did not try to save him--your friend?" cried Valentine.
"Why, you see," replied the other, in a strange slow way, "it was too
late to save him: I knew that, and--I held my tongue. What could I do?
Against my own brother! That sort of thing in a family is ruin for every
one! Do you think anybody would have brought their business to me after
my brother had stood in the Old Bailey dock to take his trial for murder?
No; my only course was to keep my own counsel, and I kept it. Phil made
eighteen thousand pounds by his marriage with poor Tom's widow, and a
paltry hundred or two is all _I_ ever touched of that money."
"And you _could_ touch that money?" cried Valentine, aghast.
"Money carries no infection. Did you ever ask any questions about the
money you won at German gaming-tables.
Pages:
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395