"There is no doubt that grave suspicion will attach to him," I answered, without hesitation.
 | An image should appear at this position in the text. To use the entire page scan as a placeholder, edit this page and replace "{{missing image}}" with "{{raw image|The Strand Magazine (Volume 7).djvu/401}}". Otherwise, if you are able to provide the image then please do so. For guidance, see Wikisource:Image guidelines and Help:Adding images. |  |
"But you think him innocent?" she queried.
"I think him innocent. As innocent as you or I."
"Oh, don't speak of me," she said, sinking suddenly on the sofa. "Pray don't mention my innocence. But for me this tragedy would never have happened."
I looked long at her before I replied.
"In one sense you may be right," I answered; "it is quite possible that but for you Carleton would not have witnessed Randall's death. Still, you must not be unfair to yourself—you are not accountable for the sudden brain seizure which must have caused Randall to reel and fall over the cliff."
"What do you mean?" she demanded.
"Carleton has just described the accident to Brabazon and me," I answered. "He saw Randall sway and fall over the cliff. I believe his story, although I fear few people will agree with me."
"I don't know the story," she said, faintly. Pray tell it to me."
I did so in a few words.
"You believe all this?" she said, with intense eagerness, when I had done speaking.
"Yes."
"How do you account for Mr. Randall's death?"
I could not help sighing deeply.
"You allude now to the difficulty of the position," I said. "At the present moment I cannot account for Randall's death. A man in perfect health is not often attacked with such violent vertigo as to cause him to lose the power of keeping himself upright." Then I paused—I was thinking deeply. "Undoubtedly there have been such cases," I said, "but they are rare."
I remembered, as I spoke, Randall's change of colour and the sudden pressure of his hand to his head that morning at breakfast.
"You have seen a good deal of the poor fellow," I said. "Did he ever at any time complain of peculiar symptoms to you? Did you ever notice anything about him which would lead you not to suppose him in perfect health?"
"Never," she said at once, emphatically. "He always seemed to me to be the perfect embodiment of the rudest health and strength."
"The death is very mysterious," I said; "and while I personally believe poor Carleton's story, I fear matters will go hard with him."
I was about to leave the room, as I did not imagine Miss Farnham could have anything further to say to me, when she exclaimed, impulsively, her eyes filled with the most terrible anguish, her face turning white as death: "If, indeed, this thing is true, and if Ronald Carleton has to suffer in consequence of Mr. Randall's death, I shall put an end to my own life."
"Nonsense!" I said, sharply. "You must not speak in that wild way. You know you don't mean a word that you say."
"I "You mistake me," she replied. exaggerate nothing. I state a simple fact when I tell you that if Ronald Carleton suffers for this, my remorse will be greater than I can bear. I have behaved badly to him."
"Yes, God knows you have!" I interrupted. I felt angry with her, and did not want to spare her at that moment. "You have
