ble of them, and then a sudden flashing of his dark
eyes showed that he had caught what he suspected was their meaning.

"Exactly so; I was coming to that," cried he. "We 'll take an oath on
the Gospel,--Mr. Frank Dalton and myself,--that never, while there's
breath in our bodies, will we ever speak to man or mortal about this
matter. I know a born gentleman would n't perjure himself, and, as for
me, I 'll swear in any way, and before any one, that your two selves
appoint."

"Then there's this priest," said Grounsell, doubtingly. "You have
already told him a great deal about this business."

"If he has n't me to the fore to prove what I said, _he_ can do nothing;
and as to the will, he never heard of it."

"The will!" exclaimed Grounsell, with an involuntary burst of surprise;
and, brief as it was, it yet revealed a whole world of dissimulation to
the acute mind of the prisoner.

"So, doctor," said the fellow, slowly, "I was right after all. You
_were_ only fencing with me."

"What do you mean?" cried Grounsell.

"I mean just this: that young Dalton never told you one word that passed
between us; that you came here to pump me, and find out all I knew;
that, cute as you are, there 's them that's equal to you, and that you
'll go back as wise as you came."

"What's the meaning of this change, Meekins?"

"It well becomes you, a gentleman, and a justice of the peace, to come
to the cell of a prisoner, in the dead of the night, and try to worm
out of him what you want for evidence. Won't it be a fine thing to tell
before a jury the offers you made me this night! Now, mind me, doctor,
and pay attention to my words. This is twice you tried to trick me, for
it was you sent that young man here. We 've done with each other now;
and may the flesh rot off my bones, like a bit of burned leather, if I
ever trust you again!"

There was an insolent defiance in the way these words were uttered, that
told Grounsell all hope of negotiation was gone; and the unhappy doctor
sat overwhelmed by the weight of his own incapacity and unskilfulness.

"There, now, sir, leave me alone. To-morrow I 'll find out if a man
is to be treated in this way. If I 'm not discharged out of this jail
before nine o'clock, _I_ 'll know why, and _you 'll_ never forget it,
the longest day you live."

Crestfallen and dispirited, Grounsell retired from the cell and returned
to the inn.

CHAPTER XXXVIII. A STEP IN VAIN.

Grounsell lost no time