"Morley, I forbid you to say a word to him at your peril."
I turned to my visitor.
"I beg, Mr. Morley, that you will take a seat. Pray do not heed our excitable friend. Just now he can hardly be said to have the full control of his senses—as you yourself perceive. As you remarked, I am John Ferguson, the friend of Mr. Edwin Lawrence. You, I take it, are in the service of his brother, Mr. Philip."
Mr. Morley's calmness had not perceptibly increased. He seemed impressed by the way in which I had handled Hume; and, also, disposed to be influenced by the doctor s express commands to hold his tongue; he was like a man between two stools.
"Yes, sir, I'm in Mr. Philip's service; but I think that perhaps the doctor's right, and I oughtn't to talk about my master."
"Possibly, Mr. Morley; but you have spoken of him already. You have accused him of murder."
"No, sir, not that!"
"Just now, in the presence of Dr. Hume and myself, you expressed your belief that Mr. Philip had killed Mr. Edwin."
"Oh no, sir, not that; I didn't go so far as that I didn't mean it if I did."
"What you meant is another question; that
