Grahame clasped his hands and paced the room in agitation, he passed his feverish fingers convulsively over his temples. “What is to be done--what is to be done?” he cried, “I have commenced to act upon that accursed document. I thought he never, never would come out of prison, but would die there; and urged by the frightfully pressing nature of my necessity--my situation in connection with the estates to which I lay claim--I lodged the deed with my lawyer, and ordered him to proceed upon it. He has commenced--I know he has commenced; the deed is registered--all will be discovered, and--oh, my God! what will ensue?”
“Transportation for life to a dead certainty,” replied Chewkle, in slow, emphatic tones, “You’ll be called upon to prove the signatur--you can’t do that; then, o’ course it’s a forgery. Well, who did it? You got to show how you come by it--you can’t do that; and then you’ll be found guilty, and sentenced for life. That’s clear, I think.”
Mr. Chewkle felt himself, at the conclusion of his speech, seized by the throat.
“Villain,” cried Mr. Grahame, froth foaming and bubbling from his mouth. “This was your hellish counsel; but for your infernal suggestion and complicity, I should never have thought of it, but you shall share my fate--my fate--transportation. Oh! horror, horror--my house--my family! I--I--death--death--”
Mr. Chewkle felt the cold clammy fingers of his antagonist loosen, and as the last words died on his lips, he saw him stagger back, and before he could catch him, he fell to the ground in a fit.
Chewkle’s first impulse was to call for help, but instantly it flashed across his mind that he should have a thousand questions to answer, besides being regarded with looks of distrust and suspicion. He had no wish, at that hour, and in the rather free style and state of his costume, to have to encounter the family, to explain that which it was so important should be left unexplained, and he proceeded to attempt himself to play the part of a medical attendant. Mr. Chewkle was stronger than he looked, and he had need of all his strength to pin Mr. Grahame to the floor, during the violent paroxysms of the fit by which he had been seized. He succeeded, by dint of tremendous exertion, in overmastering the desperate struggles of the prostrate man, and when they had ceased, he loosened his neckcloth, obtained some water from a bottle upon the table, bathed his temples and lips with it until Mr. Grahame opened his eyes, and gazed wildly around him, like one waking up out of some dreadful dream.