The smell of the pistol-smoke, the sight of blood, the pale faces of the angry and agitated men, and the spectacle of their master, mangled, ghastly, and smiling, affrighted Mrs.Jukes; and the shock and horror expressed themselves in tears and distracted lamentations.
'I must have your keys, Sir, if you please,' said Mr.Lowe.
'A word first--here, Jukes,' he addressed his housekeeper; 'stop that, you fool!' (she was blubbering loudly) ''tis a mistake, I tell you; I shall be back in an hour.

Meanwhile, here are my keys; let Mr.Lowe, there, have them whenever he likes--all my papers, Sir (turning to Lowe).

I've nothing, thank Heaven! to conceal.

Pour some port wine into that large glass.' And he drank it off, and looked better; he appeared before on the point of fainting.
'I beg pardon, gentlemen--will you drink some wine ?' 'I thank you, no, Sir.

You'll be good enough to give me those keys' (to the housekeeper).
'Give them--certainly,' said Dangerfield.
'Which of them opens the chest of drawers in your master's bed-chamber facing the window ?' He glanced at Dangerfield, and thought that he was smiling wider, and his jaws looked hollower, as he repeated-- 'If she does not know it, I'll be happy to show it you.' With a surly nod, Mr.Lowe requited the prisoner's urbanity, and followed Mrs.Jukes into her master's bed-chamber; there was an old-fashioned oak chest of drawers facing the window.
'Where's Captain Cluffe ?' enquired Lowe.
'He stopped at his lodgings, on the way,' answered the man; 'and said he'd be after us in five minutes.' 'Well, be good enough, Madam, to show me the key of these drawers.' So he opened the drawers in succession, beginning at the top, and searching each carefully, running his fingers along the inner edges, and holding the candle very close, and grunting his disappointment as he closed and locked each in its order.
In the mean time, Doctor Toole was ushered into the little parlour, where sat the disabled master of the Brass Castle.