"Yes. He at first intended to write it last night, but he put it off till to-day. The postponement was most unfortunate."
"I should have urged him to carry out his intention last night, as he designed."
"Ah! _Aprés dommage chacun est sage_--except the dead. Why should you have urged him?"
"It would have been to my interests--and his, I fear."
"Leave his out of the question; he has done with the world. Yours is another matter. How could a simple letter to a lawyer have been in your interests? A letter is not a legal document." His preternatural sharpness as he made this remark was a revelation to an honest nature like Basil's. There seemed to be no limit to Gilbert Bidaud's cunning.
"At least it would have explained matters, and cleared me from your suspicions."
"Words are easily spoken, and weigh no more than air. To what effect was to have been this letter?"
Gilbert Bidaud drew a deep breath of satisfaction; he had elicited something tangible, something which had wonderfully strengthened his position. "Then there is no will, and the letter, which would have been valueless, was not written. Your expression of regret leads me to infer that the will was to have been in your favour."
"False. He intended to repair the injustice from which I have so long suffered; his property would have been divided between me and the little Annette. It is too late for him to do that now; but I stand as natural guardian to my niece. I am truly the master here; the law will declare me so. Console yourself. You shall depart from this house a free man. You are not in danger. Bear witness to my magnanimity; my brother died a natural death. I will testify it, to save you."
"That will not do," said Basil. "From what cause he died shall be proved by proper evidence."
"I reject your proof; you are an interested party. It shall be independent evidence that shall establish the cause of death."
"So be it, young Daniel," said Gilbert Bidaud, briskly. "Meanwhile, I release you from suspicion; I, the gentleman you have insulted, believe you to be innocent. I go to seek my niece, to introduce myself to her, and to break to her the sad, the melancholy news. But before I go I give you notice of your discharge. For one week from this day you shall enjoy my hospitality, but for no longer, for not an hour longer. Accept it, beggar, or leave at once."