a better right--did not I murder him?"

'His talk and his laughing frightened me more and more.

'"Well, I stood to you then, Sir; didn't I?" says Glascock.

'"Heart of oak, Sir--true as steel; and now, how much do you want?
Remember, 'tis all I have--and I out at elbows; and here's my friend
Irons, too--eh?"

'"I want nothing, and I'll take nothing," says I; "not a shilling--not a
half-penny." You see there was something told me no good would come of
it, and I was frightened besides.

'"What! you won't go in for a share, Irons?" says he.

'"No; 'tis your money, Sir--I've no right to a sixpence--and I won't
have it," says I; "and there's an end."

'"Well, Glascock, what say you?--you hear Irons."

'"Let Irons speak for himself--he's nothing to me. You should have
considered me when all that money was took from Mr. Beauclerc--one done
as much as another--and if 'twas no more than holding my tongue, still
'tis worth a deal to you."

'"I don't deny--a deal--everything. Come--there's sixty pounds
here--but, mark, 'tis all I have--how much?"

'"I'll have thirty, and I'll take no less," says Glascock, surly enough.

'"Thirty! 'tis a good deal--but all considered--perhaps not too much,"
says Mr. Archer.

'And with that he took his right hand from his breeches' pocket, and
shot him through the heart with a pistol.

'Neither word, nor stir, nor groan, did Glascock make; but with a sort
of a jerk, flat on his back he fell, with his head on the verge of the
tarn.

'I believe I said something--I don't know--I was almost as dead as
himself--for I did not think anything _that_ bad was near at all.

'"Come, Irons--what ails you--steady, Sir--lend me a hand, and you'll
take no harm."

'He had the pistol he discharged in his left hand by this time, and a
loaded one in his right.

'"'Tis his own act, Irons. _I_ did not want it; but I'll protect myself,
and won't hold my life on ransom, at the hands of a Jew or a Judas,"
said he, smiling through his black hair, as white as a tombstone.

'"I am neither," says I.

'"I know it," says he; "and so you're _here_, and he _there_."

'"Well, 'tis over now, I suppose," says I. I was thinking of making off.

'"Don't go yet," says he, like a man asking a favour; but he lifted the
pistol an inch or two, with a jerk of his wrist, "you must help me to
hide away this dead fool."

'Well, Sir, we had three or four hours cold work of it--we tied stones
in his clothes, and sunk h