y; and often
stopping to look down; now it pursued its difficult way; and now it was
hidden from the view again.

It emerged once more, into the shadowy and uncertain light--higher now,
but not much, for the way was steep and toilsome, and its progress very
slow. What phantom of the brain did he pursue; and why did he look down
so constantly? He knew he was alone. Surely his mind was not affected by
that night's loss and agony. He was not about to throw himself headlong
from the summit of the tottering wall. Solomon turned sick, and clasped
his hands. His limbs trembled beneath him, and a cold sweat broke out
upon his pallid face.

If he complied with Mr Haredale's last injunction now, it was because he
had not the power to speak or move. He strained his gaze, and fixed it
on a patch of moonlight, into which, if he continued to ascend, he must
soon emerge. When he appeared there, he would try to call to him.

Again the ashes slipped and crumbled; some stones rolled down, and fell
with a dull, heavy sound upon the ground below. He kept his eyes upon
the piece of moonlight. The figure was coming on, for its shadow was
already thrown upon the wall. Now it appeared--and now looked round at
him--and now--

The horror-stricken clerk uttered a scream that pierced the air, and
cried, 'The ghost! The ghost!'

Long before the echo of his cry had died away, another form rushed out
into the light, flung itself upon the foremost one, knelt down upon its
breast, and clutched its throat with both hands.

'Villain!' cried Mr Haredale, in a terrible voice--for it was he. 'Dead
and buried, as all men supposed through your infernal arts, but reserved
by Heaven for this--at last--at last I have you. You, whose hands are
red with my brother's blood, and that of his faithful servant, shed
to conceal your own atrocious guilt--You, Rudge, double murderer and
monster, I arrest you in the name of God, who has delivered you into my
hands. No. Though you had the strength of twenty men,' he added, as the
murderer writhed and struggled, you could not escape me or loosen my
grasp to-night!'

Chapter 57

Barnaby, armed as we have seen, continued to pace up and down before
the stable-door; glad to be alone again, and heartily rejoicing in the
unaccustomed silence and tranquillity. After the whirl of noise and riot
in which the last two days had been passed, the pleasures of solitude
and peace were enhanced a thousandfold. He felt quite