“Upon what ground do you assume such a deed to be in existence?” he asked, striving to appear calm. “It is registered,” replied Clinton. Mr. Grahame remained silent; his lips trembled; he could not have spoken if he would. “There can be no doubt that there either is or was such a deed,” continued Charley, “or that, under the most positive and vehement denials of Mr. Wilton, the signature it bears is a forgery. It is assumed therefore, sir, directly by Mr. Wilton and indirectly by Mr. Nathan Gomer, that the instrument, being exclusively in your interest, could scarcely have had the false signature attached without your cognizance.” Mr. Grahame felt as though a poisoned barb had pierced his soul. It was not alone that the surmise was just that he winced under the accusation, but his pride was acutely wounded at the readiness with which he was connected with an act so base. With blanched cheeks, but a cold and haughty manner, he said, with knitted brows-- “When the deed of which you have spoken--if such there is--be produced, it will be time to discuss the truth or falsity of so foul an imputation.” “When Mr. Wilton was sued by you, sir, for a large sum,” returned Charley, gravely, “the very instrument of which I speak was tendered to him to sign. He did not sign it, and yet that deed has been registered as being completed. I believe--though I cannot speak with exact certainty--that Mr. Nathan Gomer derived his information on this head from a scoundrel name d Chewkle.” Mr. Grahame’s hair slowly lifted up. “Chewkle?” he breathed faintly. “Yes,” replied Charley, observing the ghastly paleness which had spread itself over Mr. Grahame’s visage; “a mercenary wretch, who would pause at no employment, however villanous. In proof of which I may tell you--although I may be stepping out of my path of strict duty in doing so--that a telegraphic message had just reached our office, with the terrible news that the ruffian Chewkle, of whom I have just spoken, encountering, early this morning, Mr. Wilton in the woods at Harley dale, discharged a pistol at him, and severely wounded him. He was seized in the attempt to consummate the murderous act, and is at the present moment in safe custody. It is expected he will make some important revelations.” A rush of ringing sounds surged through Mr. Grahame’s brain; his eyes dilated, and glared at Charley with a frightful expression. The veins upon his temples swelled as though they would burst, and his throat expanded and contracted with a horrible spasmodic action. Charley took a step towards him, alarmed by his agitation, but Mr. Grahame waved him imperiously off. He wiped the large drops of clammy perspiration, thickly clustered, from his brow, and in a hoarse voice said, hastily-- “But Wilton--Wilton--is he dead?”