Her husband shuddered at the outward expression of the agony which was rending his heart. Then the police superintendent came, and after him the doctor. The latter went through all the forms of ascertaining death, without uttering a word, and when at the conclusion of the operation of opening a vein, from which no blood flowed, he shook his head, all present understood the confirmation of their previous belief. The superintendent asked to speak to Mr Carson in private. "It was just what I was going to request of you," answered he; so he led the way into the dining-room, with the wine-glass still on the table. The door was carefully shut, and both sat down, each apparently waiting for the other to begin. At last Mr Carson spoke. "You probably have heard that I am a rich man." The superintendent bowed in assent. "Well, sir, half--nay, if necessary, the whole of my fortune I will give to have the murderer brought to the gallows. "Every exertion, you may be sure, sir, shall be used on our part; but probably offering a handsome reward might accelerate the discovery of the murderer.
But what I wanted particularly to tell you, sir, is that one of my men has already got some clue, and that another (who accompanied me here) has within this quarter of an hour found a gun in the field which the murderer crossed, and which he probably threw away when pursued, as encumbering his flight. I have not the smallest doubt of discovering the murderer." "What do you call a handsome reward?" said Mr Carson. "Well, sir, three, or five hundred pounds is a munificent reward more than will probably be required as a temptation to any accomplice." "Make it a thousand" said Mr Carson, decisively. "It's the doing of those damned turn-outs." "I imagine not," said the superintendent. "Some days ago the man I was naming to you before, reported to the inspector when he came on his beat, that he had to separate your son from a young man, who by his dress he believed to be employed in a foundry; that the man had thrown Mr Carson down, and seemed inclined to proceed to more violence, when the policeman came up and interfered. Indeed, my man wished to give him in charge for an assault, but Mr Carson would not allow that to be done." "Just like him!--noble fellow!" murmured the father. "But after your son had left, the man made use of some pretty strong threats.
And it's rather a curious coincidence that this scuffle took place in the very same spot where the murder was committed; in Turner Street." There was some one knocking at the door of the room. It was Sophy, who beckoned her father out, and then asked him, in an awe-struck whisper, to come up-stairs and speak to her mother. "She will not leave Harry, and talks so strangely. Indeed--indeed--papa, I think she has lost her senses." And the poor girl sobbed bitterly. "Where is she?" asked Mr Carson. "In his room." They went up-stairs rapidly, and silently. It was a large comfortable bedroom; too large to be well lighted by the flaring, flickering kitchen-candle which had been hastily snatched up, and now stood on the dressing-table. On the bed, surrounded by its heavy, pall-like green curtains, lay the dead son. They had carried him up, and laid him down, as tenderly as though they feared to waken him; and, indeed, it looked more like sleep than death, so very calm and full of repose was the face. You saw, too, the chiselled beauty of the features much more perfectly than when the brilliant colouring of life had distracted your attention. There was a peace about him which told that death had come too instantaneously to give any previous pain. In a chair, at the head of the bed, sat the mother,--smiling. She held one of the hands (rapidly stiffening, even in her warm grasp), and gently stroked the back of it, with the endearing caress she had used to all her children when young. "I am glad you are come," said she, looking up at her husband, and still smiling. "Harry is so full of fun, he always has something new to amuse us with; and now he pretends he is asleep, and that we can't waken him.
