calling not allowing me to leave a fellow-creature
thus exposed to the risk of being run over by the
first drowsy waggoner who might pass along the
thoroughfare, I stooped to rouse and to lift the
form. What was my horror when my eyes met the
rigid stare of a dead man's. I started, looked
again; it was the face of Sir Philip Derval! He
was lying on his back, the countenance upturned,
a dark stream oozing from the breast—murdered,
by two ghastly wounds—murdered not long
since; the blood was still warm. Stunned and
terror-stricken, I stood bending over the body.
Suddenly I was touched on the shoulder.

"Hollo! what is this?" said a gruff voice.

"Murder!" I answered, in hollow accents,
which sounded strangely to my own ear.

"Murder! so it seems." And the policeman
who had thus accosted me lifted the body.

"A gentleman, by his dress. How did this
happen? How did you come here?" and the
policeman glanced suspiciously at me.

At this moment, however, there came up
another policeman, in whom I recognised the
young man whose sister I had attended and
cured.

"Dr. Fenwick," said the last, lifting his hat
respectfully, and at the sound of my name his
fellow-policeman changed his manner, and
muttered an apology.

I now collected myself sufficiently to state the
name and rank of the murdered man. The
policemen bore the body to their station, to which
I accompanied them. I then returned to my
own house, and had scarcely sunk on my bed,
when sleep came over me. But what a sleep!
Never till then had I known how awfully
distinct dreams can be. The phantasmagoria of
the naturalist's collection revived. Life again
awoke in the serpent and the tiger, the scorpion
moved, and the vulture flapped its wings. And
there was Margrave and there Sir Philip; but
their position of power was reversed. And
Margrave's foot was on the breast of the dead man.
Still I slept on till I was roused by the summons
to attend on Mr. Vigors, the magistrate, to whom
the police had reported the murder.

I dressed hastily and went forth. As I passed
through the street, I found that the dismal news
had already spread. I was accosted on my way
to the magistrate by a hundred eager, tremulous,
inquiring tongues.

The scanty evidence I could impart was soon
given. My introduction to Sir Philip at the
mayor's house, our accidental meeting under the
arch, my discovery of the corpse some hours
afterwards on my return from my patient, my
professional belief that the deed must have been done
a very short time, perhaps but a few minutes,
before I had chanced upon its victim. But, in
that case, how account for the long interval that
had elapsed between the time in which I had left
Sir Philip under the arch, and the time in which
the murder must have been committed? Sir
Philip could not have been wandering through
the streets all those hours. This doubt,
however, was easily and speedily cleared up. A Mr.
Jeeves, who was one of the principal solicitors
in the town, stated that he had acted as Sir
Philip's legal agent and adviser ever since Sir
Philip came of age, and was charged with the
exclusive management of some valuable house
property which the deceased had possessed in
L——; that when Sir Philip had arrived in the
town late in the afternoon of the previous day,
he had sent for Mr. Jeeves; informed him that
he, Sir Philip, was engaged to be married; that
he desired to have full and minute information
as to the details of his house property (which
had greatly increased in value since his absence
from England), in connexion with the settlements
his marriage would render necessary; and that
this information was also required by him in
respect to a codicil he desired to add to his will.

He had, accordingly, requested Mr. Jeeves to
have all the books and statements concerning the
property ready for his inspection that night, when
he would call, after leaving the ball which he had
promised the mayor, whom he had accidentally
met on entering the town, to attend. Sir Philip had
also asked Mr. Jeeves to detain one of his clerks
in his office, in order to serve conjointly with Mr.
Jeeves as a witness to the codicil he desired to
add to his will. Sir Philip had accordingly come
to Mr. Jeeves' s house a little before midnight; had
gone carefully through all the statements
prepared for him, and had executed the fresh codicil
to his testament, which testament he had in their
previous interview given to Mr. Jeeves's care,
sealed up. Mr. Jeeves stated that Sir Philip,
though a man of remarkable talents and great
acquirements, was extremely eccentric, and of a
very peremptory temper, and that the importance
attached to a promptitude for which there seemed
no pressing occasion, did not surprise him in Sir
Philip as it might have done in an ordinary client.
Sir Philip said, indeed, that he should devote the
next morning to the draft for his wedding settlements,
according to the information of his
property which he had acquired; and after a visit of
very brief duration to Derval Court, should quit
the neighbourhood and return to Paris, where
his intended bride then was, and in which city it
had been settled that the marriage ceremony
should take place.

Mr. Jeeves had, however, observed to him,
that if he were so soon to be married it was
better to postpone any revision of testamentary
bequests, since after marriage he would have to
make a new will altogether.

And Sir Philip had simply answered,

"Life is uncertain; who can be sure of the
morrow?"

Sir Philip's visit to Mr. Jeeves's house had
lasted some hours, for the conversation between
them had branched off from actual business to
various topics. Mr. Jeeves had not noticed the
hour when Sir Philip went; he could only say
that as he attended him to the street door, he
observed, rather to his own surprise, that it was
close upon daybreak.