What Came Afterwards CHAPTER 3.

When Doctor Hofland came back to his office, he found a man awaiting his return — a young man, with a hard, sensual face, and something of a dissolute air.

"Doctor Hofland," said the visitor, rising, with a respectful manner, as the Doctor came in. The Doctor bowed, in assent.

"Can I have a few words with you confidentially?"

"I presume so," replied the Doctor. "Be seated."

The young man sat down. His manner was disturbed, and a little mysterious.

"I believe," he said, trying, though with only with partial success, to assume a cool demeanor, "that you were acquainted with my father, the late Adam Guyton."

"Yes, sir, I knew him."

"You attended him, in his last dreadful illness."

"I was not his physician," replied the Doctor.

"But you visited him, I know; for I saw you at our house."

"I was called in, as consulting physician, and saw him a few times."

"Exactly. That is sufficient. Now, Doctor, you may not know it — but there was foul play with my father; and I'm bound to get to the bottom of it. I'm going to sift matters to the bottom."

"Foul play in what respect?" asked the Doctor.

"In all respects. That she-devil, his wife — excuse me! but I always lose myself when I think of her — managed to rob us children of nearly the whole of our father's property, by means of a will that, I am satisfied, could be broken in law. And I'm going to break it. Now, Doctor, you can help me. You attended my father, and know whether he was in condition to make a will. If it can be proved that he was 'not of sound mind' at the date of the will, then it is thrown overboard, and we come in, as heirs at law, for an equitable division of the estate. You see how it is, Doctor. What do you think? What is your opinion? Was the old gentleman of sound mind, or not? Fit to make a will, or not?"

Disgust struggled with pity in Doctor Hofland's mind, and kept him silent. Edwin Guyton scanned him sharply, trying to read his thoughts.

"What is your opinion, Doctor?" The young man was impatient for a response. "Of course, you have an opinion. You were with him. You saw exactly how it was. You know whether he was sane enough to make a will."

Doctor Hofland thought as rapidly as possible, before committing himself in a reply.

"You are Mr. Guyton's youngest son?" he said, avoiding the answer that was expected.

"Yes sir, I am. Edwin Guyton is my name."

"Your brother John is dead?"

"He is."

"What of Henry, your oldest brother? Is he going to move with you in this matter?"

There was a change in the young man's face — anger and contempt swept over it.

"No, sir! The will was adroitly made, giving him the full sum to which he would have been entitled in a legal division of my father's estate. That settled him. Pocketing his share, he turned his back upon the younger children, and left them a prey to robbers. Thus bribed to abandon us to our fate, I hold him as an accomplice with my step-mother and that odious scoundrel, her new husband. But right is right, Doctor, and I'm going to see this matter through. If I can establish the fact that my father was not in a sane condition when the will was made, there will be a new distribution of property, to the advantage of myself and sisters."

"What of your sisters, Mr. Guyton? Where are they?"

This question dashed the young man. He reddened, and then stammered an admission that he was not particularly advised in regard to them.

"What about your sister Lydia? Is she in Baltimore?"

"Indeed, Doctor, I am unable to speak with any certainty in regard to her. She threw herself away, as you perhaps know, in a disgraceful marriage, and became separated from the family. Nothing has been heard of her, so far as I am advised, since our father's death. My step-mother may know something of her whereabouts; but as we have been strangers for years, no information that she possesses would be likely to reach me."

"She may be dead," said the Doctor.

"Possibly." There was not even a pretense of feeling in the young man's voice.

"You have a younger sister?"

"Yes, sir, Frances."

"Is she living with your step-mother?"

"I think not."

"When did you see her?"

The young man lifted his eyes to the ceiling, and paused for some time.

"It's been over two years since I saw Frances," he said, at length, with as much indifference as though not a drop of kindred blood were in their veins.

"Is she married?"

"I've never heard of such an event."

So thoroughly disgusted was Doctor Hofland with the unfeeling, almost brutal spirit shown by Edwin Guyton, that he felt no inclination to aid him in any effort to break the will of his father.

"If called to give evidence," said the visitor, going back to the leading purpose in his thought, "how clearly could you state the case? In other words, if asked whether my father were sane or insane — what would be your answer?"

"There are degrees of insanity," replied the Doctor, "and it would be for the court to decide, on the particulars of evidence, its estimate of the degree in your father's case. There was certainly a temporary derangement of the faculties."

"Temporary? Anything but that, Doctor? It proved to be inveterate. You are aware that the family was compelled to send him to an asylum, where, in the violence of his insanity, he threw himself from a window and was killed."

"Did it never cross your mind," asked the Doctor, dropping his voice to a more serious tone, "that in the precipitate removal of your father from our Maryland Hospital to aprivate mad house in another state — some wrong may have been involved?"

"Wrong? Wrong, sir? I am not sure that I take your meaning." There was a sudden knitting of the young man's brows.

"I never assented to his being taken from home in the first place."

"Really?"

"No, sir. In my view, the case did not threaten the disaster that followed. Doctor Shaw, who is now dead, was your family physician, and I was called, I think, at your father's desire. But without advising with me, and certainly against my judgment, he was taken to the Hospital while under the influence of an opiate. In a few days, he was so much better, that the resident physician consented to his being removed by Doctor Shaw and your step-mother. I learned this on personal inquiry at the Hospital. You may judge of my surprise when, not long afterwards, the fact came out that instead of being taken home, he was borne off to the private asylum where he died."

"Is that so?" exclaimed Edwin Guyton, startling to his feet, with lowering brows, and eyes that had in them a strange glitter.

"That is so," replied the Doctor.

"Who took him to the Hospital?"

Without reflecting as to the prudence of his answer, Doctor Hofland replied —

"Mr. Larobe and your step-mother.

"Ha! Larobe! Good! I begin to see light! Something wrong? Of course there was something wrong!"

And the young man stalked backwards and forwards across the office in a wild, excited manner. But suddenly composing himself, he sat down close to the Doctor, and bending towards him, said, while he rubbed his hands in suppressed excitement and expectation —

"What else? Mr. Larobe was with my step-mother — her accomplice in the matter. And they took him from the Hospital, and removed him to a distant asylum?"

"No, Doctor Shaw accompanied your mother when your father was taken from the Hospital."

"Doctor Shaw, oh!" There was a tone of disappointment. "But no matter. The thing is as plain as daylight. I'm much obliged to you for the hint. Something wrong! I always said that woman was capable of anything; and I always said that her day would come. Murder will come out, you know, Doctor; and it's coming out now."

"Don't take too much for granted," replied Doctor Hofland; "I have only given you a fact or two, and must warn you against quoting or involving me in a single item beyond what I have said. My evidence will only serve in a limited degree; and if, through any eagerness to make out a case, you rely on me to prove a whit more than my present language declares, you will damage instead of promoting the cause of justice. You have all that I know or think it advisable to suggest. In my view, your father's case was a simple one, and should not have led at so early a stage of aberration, to his removal from home. If the will dates prior to this removal, the question of his ability to divide property is an open one, and may be decided by the courts either way. Unless you have a cloud of witnesses to prove insanity as existing when the will was made, an attempt to break it may only involve you in years of costly and fruitless litigation."

"I'm obliged to you for the advice, Doctor," said the young man, resuming a cool exterior. "You've set me to thinking in a new direction." And with half-closed eyes, and shut, protruding mouth, he sat musing, with an occasional satisfactory nod as he followed the train of thought which had been awakened in his mind. Then, rising and drawing his cloak about his shoulders, he bade the Doctor good evening, and retired.

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