Jekyl, only answered, "I have no thoughts of asking you to give up the
cause of your friend; but methinks the documents of which I give you a
list, may shake your opinion of it."

Captain Jekyl read, muttering to himself, "'_Certificate of marriage, by
the Rev. Zadock Kemp, chaplain to the British Embassy at Paris, between
Marie de Bellroche, Comptesse de Martigny, and the Right Honourable John
Lord Oakendale--Letters between John Earl of Etherington and his lady,
under the title of Madame de Martigny--Certificate of baptism--Declaration
of the Earl of Etherington on his death-bed._'--All this is very
well--but may I ask you, Mr. Tyrrel, if it is really your purpose to go
to extremity with your brother?"

"He has forgot that he is one--he has lifted his hand against my life."

"You have shed his blood--twice shed it," said Jekyl; "the world will
not ask which brother gave the offence, but which received, which
inflicted, the severest wound."

"Your friend has inflicted one on me, sir," said Tyrrel, "that will
bleed while I have the power of memory."

"I understand you, sir," said Captain Jekyl; "you mean the affair of
Miss Mowbray?"

"Spare me on that subject, sir!" said Tyrrel. "Hitherto I have disputed
my most important rights--rights which involved my rank in society, my
fortune, the honour of my mother--with something like composure; but do
not say more on the topic you have touched upon, unless you would have
before you a madman!--Is it possible for you, sir, to have heard even
the outline of this story, and to imagine that I can ever reflect on the
cold-blooded and most inhuman stratagem, which this friend of yours
prepared for two unfortunates, without"--He started up, and walked
impetuously to and fro. "Since the Fiend himself interrupted the
happiness of perfect innocence, there was never such an act of
treachery--never such schemes of happiness destroyed--never such
inevitable misery prepared for two wretches who had the idiocy to repose
perfect confidence in him!--Had there been passion in his conduct, it
had been the act of a man--a wicked man, indeed, but still a human
creature, acting under the influence of human feelings--but his was the
deed of a calm, cold, calculating demon, actuated by the basest and most
sordid motives of self-interest, joined, as I firmly believe, to an
early and inveterate hatred of one whose claims he considered as at
variance with his own."

"I am sorry to see you in such