powers are not
understood in this later and more prosaic age. I wonder if Mr.
Trelawny has any knowledge, or even suspicion, of such a kind? I only
know this for certain, that a worse atmosphere for a sick chamber could
not possibly be imagined; and I admire the courage of Sir James Frere
in refusing to have anything to do with a case under such conditions.
These instructions of Mr. Trelawny to his daughter, and from what you
have told me, the care with which he has protected his wishes through
his solicitor, show that he suspected something, at any rate. Indeed,
it would almost seem as if he expected something to happen.... I wonder
if it would be possible to learn anything about that! Surely his
papers would show or suggest something.... It is a difficult matter to
tackle; but it might have to be done. His present condition cannot go
on for ever; and if anything should happen there would have to be an
inquest. In such case full examination would have to be made into
everything.... As it stands, the police evidence would show a murderous
attack more than once repeated. As no clue is apparent, it would be
necessary to seek one in a motive."

He was silent. The last words seemed to come in a lower and lower tone
as he went on. It had the effect of hopelessness. It came to me as a
conviction that now was my time to find out if he had any definite
suspicion; and as if in obedience to some command, I asked:

"Do you suspect anyone?" He seemed in a way startled rather than
surprised as he turned his eyes on me:

"Suspect anyone? Any thing, you mean. I certainly suspect that there
is some influence; but at present my suspicion is held within such
limit. Later on, if there be any sufficiently definite conclusion to
my reasoning, or my thinking--for there are not proper data for
reasoning--I may suspect; at present however--"

He stopped suddenly and looked at the door. There was a faint sound as
the handle turned. My own heart seemed to stand still. There was over
me some grim, vague apprehension. The interruption in the morning,
when I was talking with the Detective, came back upon me with a rush.

The door opened, and Miss Trelawny entered the room.

When she saw us, she started back; and a deep flush swept her face.
For a few seconds she paused; at such a time a few succeeding seconds
seem to lengthen in geometrical progression. The strain upon me, and,
as I could easily see, on the Doctor also, rela