“Yes he did, but by another hand. He was just the sort of Italian villain to hire a low ruffian to do the deed he feared to attempt. And that was the way in which he managed it. Listen, Justin: At the time that I came down to Washington on my way to the Rainbows, I went over to Witch Elms to see my old aunt, to explain to her why I went to New York so suddenly, and to ask her why she had not answered my letter in which I had broken to her the news of Mona’s awful death. When I reached Witch Elms the very first person whom I saw, the man who opened the door for me, was—Dole, the confidential servant of Bercelloni. His sudden appearance nearly deprived me of my breath. I could not understand why _he_, of all men should be _there_, of all places. But he took my message to the old lady, and while he was gone I went to the kitchen and asked the old cook, Nan, how this man came to be there, and in what capacity he served. She told me that her mistress had advertised for an overseer for her farm, and that Dole had answered her advertisement, and had offered himself and had been accepted; and moreover, that he had already obtained a great influence over her mistress.” “Was this person you speak of a very large man with a very small head, closely cropped hair and closely shaven face?” “Yes; why?” “I saw him one night when I rode out to Witch Elms, to inquire for you, that is all! go on, dearest.” “Old Nan had scarcely finished her account of Mr. Dole, when that gentleman returned to me with the information that my aunt would not see me, and with my unopened letter in his hand.” “What a strange old soul!” “Well, Justin, I will not weary you with the repetition of all my attempts to see my old relation. They were quite fruitless. She knew that my sister was dead, and how she had died. She knew all that from the public papers, but that did not melt her. She remained obdurate to the last. Patience, dear Justin! my long, dark story is almost at an end. I am about to give you the sequel of all this.” “Go on, my dearest Britomarte, and believe that I am listening with the deepest interest and closest attention.” “I pass on to the week of her death. I was here at the Parsonage helping to nurse your sister at that time, you remember?” “Certainly.”