im close under the bank, and walled him over
with more. 'Twas no light job, I can tell you the water was near four
feet deep, though 'twas a dry season; and then we slipped out a handsome
slice of the bank over him; and, making him all smooth, we left him to
take his chance; and I never heard any talk of a body being found there;
and I suppose he's now where we left him.'

And Irons groaned.

'So we returned silent and tired enough, and I in mortal fear of him.
But he designed me no hurt. There's luckily some risk in making away
with a fellow, and 'tisn't done by any but a fool without good cause;
and when we got on the road again, I took the London road, and he turned
his back on me, and I don't know where he went; but no doubt his plans
were well shaped.

''Twas an ugly walk for me, all alone, over that heath, I can tell you.
'Twas mortal dark; and there was places on the road where my footsteps
echoed back, and I could not tell but 'twas Mr. Archer following me,
having changed his mind, maybe, or something as bad, if that could be;
and many's the time I turned short round, expecting to see him, or may
be that other lad, behind, for you see I got a start like when he shot
Glascock; and there was a trembling over me for a long time after.

'Now, you see, Glascock's dead, and can't tell tales no more nor Mr.
Beauclerc, and Dr. Sturk's a dead man too, you may say; and I think he
knew--that is--brought to mind somewhat. He lay, you see, on the night
Mr. Beauclerc lost his life, in a sort of a dressing-room, off his
chamber, and the door was open; but he was bad with a fall he had, and
his arm in splints, and he under laudanum--in a trance like--and on the
inquest he could tell nothing; but I think he remembered something more
or less concerning it after.' And Mr. Irons took a turn, and came back
very close to Mervyn, and said very gently, 'and I think Charles Archer
murdered him.'

'Then Charles Archer _has_ been in Dublin, perhaps in Chapelizod, within
the last few months,' exclaimed Mervyn, in a sort of agony.

'I didn't say so,' answered Irons. 'I've told you the truth--'tis the
truth--but there's no catching a ghost--and who'd believe my story? and
them things is so long ago. And suppose I make a clean breast of it, and
that I could bring you face to face with him, the world would not
believe my tale, and I'd then be a lost man, one way or another--no one,
mayhap, could tell how--I'd lose my life before a year,