What time Sir Richard had been dying in the inner room, Mr. Green and two of his had improved the occasion by making a thorough search in Sir Richard's writing-table and a thorough of every of paper found there. From which you will understand how much Mr. Green was a gentleman who set business above every other consideration.  
The man who had shot Sir Richard had been ordered by Mr. Green to take himself off, and had been urged to go down on his knees, for once in a way, and pray Heaven that his rashness might not bring him to the as he so richly deserved.
 
His fourth myrmidon Mr. Green had dispatched with a note to my Lord Rotherby, and it was upon the answer he should receive that it must depend whether he proceeded or not, forthwith, to the of Mr. Caryll. Meanwhile the search went on amain, and was extended presently to the very bedroom where the dead Sir Richard lay. Every nook and cranny was ; the very under the dead man was removed, and investigated, and even Mr. Caryll and Bentley had to submit to being searched. But it all proved fruitless. Not a line of treasonable matter was to be found anywhere. To the certificates upon Mr. Caryll the searcher made the mistake of paying but little in view of their nature.
 
But if there were no proofs of plots and treasonable dealings, there was, at least, abundant proof of Sir Richard's identity, and Mr. Green appropriated these against any awkward the manner in which the baronet had met his death.
 
Of such inquiries, however, there were none. It was formally sworn to Lord Carteret by Green and his men that the secretary's messenger, Jerry—the fellow owned no surname—had shot Sir Richard in self-defence, when Sir Richard had produced firearms upon being arrested on a charge of high treason, for which they held the secretary's own warrant.
 
At first Lord Carteret considered it a thousand pities that they should not have matters better so as to take Sir Richard alive; but upon reflection he was careful not to exaggerate to himself the loss occasioned by his death, for Sir Richard, after all, was a notoriously stubborn man, not in the least likely to have made any avowals worth having. So that his trial, whilst probably resulting of such results as the government could desire, would have given to the matter of a plot that was hatching; and such publicity at a time of so much unrest was the last thing the government desired. Where Jacobitism was concerned, Lord Carteret had the wise to proceed with the extremest caution. Publicity might serve to fan the smouldering embers into a blaze, whereas it was his cunning aim quietly to them as he came upon them.
 
So, upon the whole, he was by no means sure but that Jerry had done the state the best possible service in disposing thus summarily of that notorious Jacobite agent, Sir Richard Everard. And his lordship saw to it that there was no and that nothing further was heard of the matter.
 
As for Lord Rotherby, had the affair twenty-four hours earlier, he would certainly have returned Mr. Green a message to effect the arrest of Mr. Caryll upon suspicion. But as it chanced, he had that very afternoon received a visit from his mother, who came in great excitement to inform him that she had forced from Lord Ostermore an acknowledgment that he was plotting with Mr. Caryll to go over to King James.
 
So, before they could move further against Mr. Caryll, it them to to what extent Lord Ostermore might not be incriminated, as otherwise the arrest of Caryll might lead to exposures that would ruin the earl more than could any South Sea bubble revelations. Thus her ladyship to her son. He turned upon her.
 
“Why, madam,” said he, “these be the very arguments I used t'other day when we talked of this; and all you answered me then was to call me a dull-witted clod, for not seeing how the thing might be done without involving my lord.”
 
“Tcha!” snapped her ladyship, beating her impatiently with her fan. “A dull-witted clod did I call you? 'Twas flattery—sheer flattery; for I think ye're something worse. Fool, can ye not see the difference that lies betwixt your disclosing a plot to the secretary of state, and causing this Caryll to disclose it—as might happen if he were seized? First discover the plot—find out in what it may consist, and then go to Lord Carteret to make your terms.”
 
He looked at her, out of temper by her . “I may be as dull as your ladyship says—but I do not see in what the position now is different from what it was.”
 
“It isn't different—but we thought it was different,” she explained impatiently. “We assumed that your father would not have betrayed himself, counting upon his characteristic caution. But it seems we are mistook. He has betrayed himself to Caryll. And before we can move in this matter, we must have proofs of a plot to lay before the secretary of state.”
 
Lord Rotherby understood, and accounted himself between Scylla and Charybdis, and when that evening Green's messenger found him, he gnashed his teeth in rage at having to allow this chance to pass, at being forced to until he should be less . He returned Mr. Green an urgent message to take no steps concerning Mr. Caryll until they should have concerted together.
 
Mr. Green was relieved. Mr. Caryll arrested might stir up matters against the of Sir Richard, and this was a business which Mr. Green had prevision enough to see his master, Lord Carteret, would prefer should not be stirred up. He had a notion, for the rest, that if Mr. Caryll were left to go his ways, he would not be likely to give trouble touching that same matter. And he was right in this. Before his overwhelming sense of loss, Mr. Caryll had few thoughts to upon the manner in which that loss had been sustained. Moreover, if he had a quarrel with any one on that account, it was with the government whose representative had issued the warrant for Sir Richard's arrest, and no more with the wretched tipstaff who had fired the pistol than with the pistol itself. Both alike were but instruments, of slightly different degrees of insensibility.
 
For twenty-four hours Mr. Caryll's grief was overwhelming in its . His sense of was awful. Gone was the only living man who had stood to him for kith and . He was left alone in the world; alone. That was the selfishness of his sorrow—the consideration of Sir Richard's death as it concerned himself.
 
Presently an of was supplied by the reflection of Sir Richard's own case—as Sir Richard himself had stated it upon his deathbed. His life had not been happy; it had been poisoned by a monomania, which, like a worm in the bud, had consumed the sweetness of his existence. Sir Richard was at rest. And since he had been discovered, that shot was, indeed, the most merciful end that could have been measured out to him. The alternative might have been the gibbet and the crowd, and a moral torture to precede the end. Better—a thousand times better—as it was.
 
So much did all this weigh with him that when on the following Monday he accompanied the body to its grave, he found hi............