There, I became terribly embarrassed. What could I say to a keen, sensible, worldly man of law,--tell him of the powder and the fumes, of the scene in the museum, of Sir Philip’s tale, of the implied identity of the youthful Margrave with the aged Grayle, of the elixir of life, and of magic arts? I--I tell such a romance! I,--the noted adversary of all pretended mysticism; I,--I a sceptical practitioner of medicine! Had that manuscript of Sir Philip’s been available,--a substantial record of marvellous events by a man of repute for intellect and learning,--I might perhaps have ventured to startle the solicitor of L------ with my revelations. But the sole proof that all which the solicitor urged me to confide was not a monstrous fiction or an insane delusion had disappeared; and its disappearance was a part of the terrible mystery that enveloped the whole. I answered therefore, as composedly as I could, that “I could have no serious grudge against Sir Philip, whom I had never seen before that evening; that the words which applied to my supposed grudge were lightly said by Sir Philip, in reference to a physiological dispute on matters connected with mesmerical phenomena; that the deceased had declared his casket, which he had shown me at the mayor’s house, contained drugs of great potency in medicine; that I had asked permission to test those drugs myself; and that when I said he would repent of his refusal, I merely meant that he would repent of his reliance on drugs not warranted by the experiments of professional science.” My replies seemed to satisfy the lawyer so far, but “how could I account for the casket and the knife being found in my room?” “In no way but this; the window of my study is a door-window opening on the lane, from which any one might enter the room. I was in the habit, not only of going out myself that way, but of admitting through that door any more familiar private acquaintance.” “Whom, for instance?” I hesitated a moment, and then said, with a significance I could not forbear, “Mr. Margrave! He would know the locale perfectly; he would know that the door was rarely bolted from within during the daytime: he could enter at all hours; he could place, or instruct any one to deposit, the knife and casket in my bureau, which he knew I never kept locked; it contained no secrets, no private correspondence,--chiefly surgical implements, or such things as I might want for professional experiments.” “Mr. Margrave! But you cannot suspect him--a lively, charming young man, against whose character not a whisper was ever heard--of connivance with such a charge against you,--a connivance that would implicate him in the murder itself; for if you are accused wrongfully, he who accuses you is either the criminal or the criminal’s accomplice, his instigator or his tool.”