Dawkins, the great shipbuilder, and M'Pherson, of M'Pherson and
Flinders, the Glasgow merchants, were there. Very jolly affair, I assure
you. Deuced gentlemanly fellow, Phil Sheldon." And so the matter would
end.
Would there be an inquest in the event of his stepdaughter's death? Well,
no. Jedd knew that in such a case all _post-mortem_ inquiry must end in
confusion and perplexity, statement and counter-statement from medical
witnesses, who would contradict one another persistently in the support
of their pet theories, and who would regard the investigation as a very
convenient opportunity for ventilating their own opinions and airing
their own importance. A considerable number of the canine race would be
slaughtered, perhaps, in the process of dilettante experiments; the broad
principles of chemical science would be discussed from every point of
view, in innumerable letters published in the _Zeus,_ and the _Diurnal
Hermes_; and the fact that an amiable and innocent young woman had been
foully murdered would be swept out of the minds of mankind before a
whirlwind of technical debate. Jedd was the last man to stake his
reputation upon such a hazard. No: Mr. Sheldon knew that he had played a
cautious game; and if he should ultimately lose the stake for which he
had ventured, it would be because he had been just a little too cautious.
"These things are generally done too quickly," he said to himself.
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