Derval, and could not assist one accused of the murder. I gathered from
the little he said that Strahan had already been to him that morning and
told him of the missing manuscript, that Strahan had ceased to be my
friend. I engaged another solicitor, a young man of ability, and who
professed personal esteem for me. Mr. Stanton (such was the lawyer's
name) believed in my innocence; but he warned me that appearances were
grave, he implored me to be perfectly frank with him. Had I held
conversation with Sir Philip under the archway as reported by the witness?
Had I used such or similar words? Had the deceased said, "I had a grudge
against him"? Had I demanded the casket? Had I threatened Sir Philip
that he would repent? And of what,--his refusal?

I felt myself grow pale, as I answered, "Yes; I thought such or similar
expressions had occurred in my conversation with the deceased."

"What was the reason of the grudge? What was the nature of this casket,
that I should so desire its possession?"

There, I became terribly embarrassed. What could I say to a keen,
sensible, worldly man of law,--tell him of the powder and the fumes, of
the scene in the museum, of Sir Philip's tale, of the implied identity of
the youthful Margrave with the aged Grayle, of the elixir of life, and of
magic arts? I--I tell such a romance! I,--the noted adversary of all
pretended mysticism; I,--I a sceptical practitioner of medicine! Had that
manuscript of Sir Philip's been available,--a substantial record of
marvellous events by a man of repute for intellect and learning,--I might
perhaps have ventured to startle the solicitor of I--with my revelations.
But the sole proof that all which the solicitor urged me to confide was
not a monstrous fiction or an insane delusion had disappeared; and its
disappearance was a part of the terrible mystery that enveloped the whole.