“While I live you are safe,” rejoined Trenchard; “after my death I can answer for nothing.”

“’Sblood!” exclaimed Wild, uneasily.  “This alters the case materially.  When were you last confessed, Sir Rowland?” he added abruptly.

“Why do you ask?” rejoined the other haughtily.

“Because—­because I’m always distrustful of a priest,” rejoined Jonathan.

“I have just parted from one,” said Trenchard.

“So much the worse,” replied Jonathan, rising and taking a turn, as if uncertain what to do.

“So much the better,” rejoined Sir Rowland.  “He who stands on the verge of the grave, as I do, should never be unprepared.”

“You’re strangely superstitious, Sir Rowland,” said Jonathan, halting, and looking steadfastly at him.

“If I were so, I should not be here,” returned Trenchard.

“How so?” asked Wild, curiously.

“I had a terrible dream last night.  I thought my sister and her murdered husband dragged me hither, to this very room, and commanded you to slay me.”

“A terrible dream, indeed,” said Jonathan thoughtfully.  “But you mustn’t indulge these gloomy thoughts.  Let me recommend a glass of wine.”

“My penance forbids it,” said Trenchard, waving his hand.  “I cannot remain here long.”

“You will remain longer than you anticipate,” muttered Wild.

“Before I go,” continued Sir Rowland, “I must beg of you to disclose to me all you know relative to the parentage of Thames Darrell.”

“Willingly,” replied Wild.  “Thinking it likely you might desire to have this information, I prepared accordingly.  First, look at this glove.  It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered.  You will observe that a coronet is embroidered on it.”

“Ha!” exclaimed Trenchard, starting, “is he so highly born?”

“This letter will inform you,” replied Wild, placing a document in his hand.

“What is this!” cried Sir Rowland.  “I know the hand—­ha! my friend! and I have murdered him!  And my sister was thus nobly, thus illustriously wedded.  O God!  O God!”

And he appeared convulsed with agony.

“Oh! if I had known this,” he exclaimed, “what guilt, what remorse might have been spared me!”

“Repentance comes too late when the deed’s done,” returned Wild, bitterly.

“It is not too late to repair the wrong I have done my nephew,” cried Trenchard.  “I will set about it instantly.  He shall have the estates.  I will return to Manchester at once.”

“You had better take some refreshment before you start,” rejoined Wild. “‘You’ve a long journey before you.’”