The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 165: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Eee 150 THE MYSTERIES. a his person—his valet, William Dudley. But this | but he chose to have the materials for procuring individual had been in the service of the family for several years ; and his character was considered to _be unimpeachable. Besides, did not William Dud- ley testify the most affectionate interest towards | his young master ?—did he not even weep at times when Arthur spoke in his presence of the unknown malady that was carrying him silently and rapidly to the tomb? Yes—but human nature is capable of such vile hypocrisy ! These were the thoughts which now occupied the Hon. Arthur Eaton; and they bewildered him sorely. He had read of wretches living in the middle ages, and who were such adepts in compounding secret poisons that the aqua tophana, one of the most mysterious and deadly venoms ever invented by any votary of that detestable school, was repre- sented to have produced upon its victims effects similar to this malady which was undermining him- self. Was it possible that the appalling secret could have been revived in the present age ?—and was it in the keeping of that old midwife hag ? The presumption was that an affirmative might be given to these questions. Nevertheless, was it not probable that his ears had deceived him, and that the word “ antidote” had not been uttered as he was recovering from his swoon ?—was it not likely that the reminiscence of the two receipts was uppermost in his mind as he returned to consciousness, and that the earliest idea which then dawned in upon him had been mistaken by his fevered fancy for a word breathed by the lips of those near him?—or, again, was it not possible that, even if that word had been spoken, it was used by an old hag ignorant of its true meaning and applied by her to some specific medicine of her own? Then came the conviction that it was Fernanda’s lips which had breathed this word;—and Eaton felt the assurance growing stronger and stronger in his mind that accident had placed him in the way to unravel mysterious and terrible things. At all events the copies of the receipts were in his possession ; and a skilful chemist would explain to him the real nature and tendency of each, It being now eleven o’clock, he rang the bell ; and his valet almost immediately answered the summons, Without appearing to regard him more atten- tively than usual, Mr. Eaton nevertheless scanned William Dudley’s countenance with covert keen- ness: but not a lineament—not a feature—not a look betrayed anything sinister on the part of that man. Of middle age, florid complexion, light hair, good figure, and most respectable appearance, the valet seemed to be a person incapable of doing a dishonest deed, much more of perpetrating a crime of the blackest dye. Eaton was again baffled and bewildered: but he resolved to permit his mind to come to no decisive opinion until he should have fathomed those mys- teries of which he had as yet only commenced the bare initiative study. Having laid aside his garments, Arthur retired . to rest; and the valet arranged the night-table as usual by the side of the couch. A lamp, the means SS —— 0S sss water, and a tumbler were invariably placed in this manner within his reach. | of procuring a speedy light, a book, a decanter of He could not beara We light in the room when he felt inclined to sleep ; i —was surprised at receiving so early a visit from ee — ————— th ee one, inasmuch as he frequently passed restless hours, which he endeayoured to while away by reading. He suffered much from thirst; and it was no unusual thing for him to empty the de- canter of water during the night. At all events he never failed to drink at least one tumbler. The valet, having arranged the night-table in the manner described, quitted the room. Sleep did not immediately visit Arthur’s eyes; and as he Jay meditating upon the singular inci- dents of the evening, it suddenly occurred to him that the fluid which had been poured down his throat by Mrs. Lindley, and which was denominated the antidote, was tasteless. By a natural sequence in his ideas, he reflected that such a fluid, if it were white,—for he did not catch a glimpse of the bottle that was applied to his lips,—would easily be ad- ministered in pure water. Then came the thought that if his valet actually were the wretch through whose agency poison had been given to him, the decanter nightly placed by his side was the means by which the deadly potion was conveyed into his System. But a chemist would give him explanations on this head as well as with respect to the copies of the two receipts. Slumber at length fell upon the eyes of the Hon. Mr. Eaton; and, awaking at an earlier hour than usual, he fancied that he felt the least thing better. The reader may be sure that he had not touched the water in the decanter during the night: but now, rising from his bed, he emptied its contents into a bottle, which he locked up in one of his drawers. First, however, he poured a few drops into the tumbler, so as to give the glass the ap- pearance of having been used, Returning to his couch, he rang the bell for his valet; and when that individual appeared, Eaton, who watched him narrowly without seeming to do so, observed that he cast an immediate and hasty look towards the decanter. Nevertheless, there might be nothing in this: it was perhaps accidental —and moreover Eaton’s suspicions were calculated to invest very trivial occurrences with the import- ance of proofs of guilt. At all events the time had not come to accuse William Dudley; and he therefore behaved towards him with his wonted urbanity and kindness. Having risen and performed his toilette, Arthur sent a verbal apology to his father, Lord March- mont, for absenting himself from the breakfast- table, on the plea that he was engaged to partake of that meal with a friend. The fact was that he could restrain his curiosity no longer—he felt that he should be unable to eat another mouthful of food until he had consulted a chemist: for he had the strongest hope, amounting almost to a presen- timent, that the matters which he was about to in- vestigate were of the importance of life or death to himself! With the copy of the receipts in his pocket, and the bottle of water beneath his cloak, Arthur Eaton sallied forth from his father’s noble mansion in Hanover Square; and directing his steps towards Bond Street, he entered the shop of a celebrated chemist who supplied the family with the medicine made up according to a physician’s prescription. Mr. Bradford—for such was the chemist’s name COMA (EloOOKS. EO