Part 23 (1/2)

”Come in--come in, Jacopo,” said the young man; ”come in, and close the door. When did this happen?”

The Neapolitan recounted briefly the events which we have already recorded.

”It was a fit--some sudden seizure,” said the young man, glancing at the features of the corpse.

”Yes, vary like, vary like,” said Parucci; ”he used to complain sometimes that his head was sweeming round, and pains and aches; but there was something more--something more.”

”What do you mean?--don't speak riddles,” said Ashwoode.

”I mean this, then,” replied the Italian; ”something came to him--something was in the room when he died.”

”How do you know that?” inquired the young man.

”I heard him talking loudly with it,” replied he--”talking and praying it to go away from him.”

”Why did you not come into the room yourself?” asked Ashwoode.

”So I did, _Diamine_, so I did,” replied he.

”Well, what saw you?”

”Nothing bote Sir Richard, dead--quite dead; and the far door was bolted inside, just so as he always used to do; and when the candle went out, the thing was here again. I heard it myself, as sure as I am leeving man--I heard it--close up with me--by the body.”

”Tut, tut, man; speak sense. Do you mean to say that anyone talked with you?” said Ashwoode.

”I mean this, that something was in the chamber with me beside the dead man,” replied the valet, doggedly. ”I heard it with my own ears.

_Zucche!_ I moste 'av been deaf, if I did not hear it. It said 'hish,'

and then again, close up to my face, it said it--'hish, hish,' and laughed below its breath. Pah! the place smelt of brimstone.”

”In plain terms, then, you believe that the devil was in the room; is that it?” said Ashwoode, with a ghastly smile of contempt.

”Oh! no,” replied the servant, with a sneer as ghastly; ”it was an angel, of course--an angel from heaven.”

”No more of this folly, sirrah,” said Ashwoode, sharply. ”Your own d----d cowardice fills your brain with these fancies. Here, give me the keys, and show me where the papers are laid. I shall first examine the cabinets here, and then in the library. Now open this one; and do you hear, Parucci, not one word of this c.o.c.k-and-bull story of yours to the servants. Good G.o.d! my brain's unsettled. I can scarcely believe my father dead--dead,” and again he stood by the bedside, and looked upon the still face of the corpse.

”We must send for Craven at once,” said Ashwoode, turning from the bed; ”I must confer with him; he knows better than anyone else how all my father's affairs stand. There are some d----d bills out, I believe, but we'll soon know.”

Having despatched an urgent note to Craven, the insinuating attorney, to whom we have already introduced the reader, Sir Henry Ashwoode proceeded roughly to examine the contents of boxes, escritoires, and cabinets filled with dusty papers, and accompanied and directed in his search by the Italian.

”You never heard him mention a will, did you?” inquired the young man.

The Neapolitan shook his head.

”You did not know of his making one?” he resumed.

”No, no, I cannot remember,” said the Italian, reflectively; ”but,” he added quickly, while a peculiar meaning lit up the piercing eyes which he turned upon the interrogator--”but do you weesh to _find_ one? Maybe I could help you to find one.”

”Pshaw! folly; what do you take me for?” retorted Ashwoode, slightly colouring, in spite of his habitual insensibility, for Parucci was too intimate with his principles for him to a.s.sume ignorance of his meaning. ”Why the devil should I wish to find a will, since I inherit everything without it?”