ourse, admit
him to the houses where ladies were. But Silas's wife was not much regarded
at Bartram-Haugh. Indeed, she was very little seen, for she was every
evening tipsy in her bedroom, poor woman!'

'How miserable!' I exclaimed.

'I don't think it troubled Silas very much, for she drank gin, they said,
poor thing, and the expense was not much; and, on the whole, I really think
he was glad she drank, for it kept her out of his way, and was likely to
kill her. At this time your poor father, who was thoroughly disgusted at
his marriage, had stopped the supplies, you know, and Silas was very poor,
and as hungry as a hawk, and they said he pounced upon this rich London
gamester, intending to win his money. I am telling you now all that was
said afterwards. The races lasted I forget how many days, and Mr. Charke
stayed at Bartram-Haugh all this time and for some days after. It was
thought that poor Austin would pay all Silas's gambling debts, and so this
wretched Mr. Charke made heavy wagers with him on the races, and they
played very deep, besides, at Bartram. He and Silas used to sit up at night
at cards. All these particulars, as I told you, came out afterwards, for
there was an inquest, you know, and then Silas published what he called his
"statement," and there was a great deal of most distressing correspondence
in the newspapers.'

'And why did Mr. Charke kill himself?' I asked.

'Well, I will tell you first what all are agreed about. The second night
after the races, your uncle and Mr. Charke sat up till between two and
three o'clock in the morning, quite by themselves, in the parlour. Mr.
Charke's servant was at the Stag's Head Inn at Feltram, and therefore could
throw no light upon what occurred at night at Bartram-Haugh; but he was
there at six o'clock in the morning, and very early at his master's door by
his direction. He had locked it, as was his habit, upon the inside, and the
key was in the lock, which turned out afterwards a very important point.
On knocking he found that he could not awaken his master, because, as it
appeared when the door was forced open, his master was lying dead at his
bedside, not in a pool, but a perfect pond of blood, as they described it,
with his throat cut.'

'How horrible!' cried I.

'So it was. Your uncle Silas was called up, and greatly shocked of course,
and he did what I believe was best. He had everything left as nearly as
possible in the exact state in which it had b