ou need not try to fool me, nor think I am
going to let you out of my sight."

"You misunderstand. I desire neither; I only wish a bargain.
I am ready to pledge you my word to make no attempt to escape before
you are in possession of that property, and to offer no resistance to
your shooting me in case you fail to obtain it, provided on the other
hand you pledge your word to spare my life should you succeed within
half an hour. And, my dear sir, considering the relative value of
your word and mine, I think it must be confessed you have the better
of the bargain."

I thought for a moment. "Very well then," said I, "so be it; but if
you fail--"

"I know what happens," replied he.

With that he blew a note or two on his flute, took it to pieces, and
carefully bestowed it in the tails of his coat. I put away my pistol
in mine.

"Do you mind shouldering that spade and pickaxe, and following me?"
he asked. I took them up in silence. He drained his glass and put
on his hat.

"Now I think we are ready. Stop a moment."

He reached across for the glass which I had emptied, took it up
gingerly between thumb and forefinger, and tossed it with a crash on
to the hearthstone. He then did the same to my pipe, after first
snapping the stem into halves. This done, he blew out one candle,
and with great gravity led the way down the staircase. I shouldered
the tools and followed, while my heart hated him with a fiercer spite
than ever.

We passed down the crazy stairs and through the kitchen. The candles
were still burning there. As my companion glanced at the
supper-table, "H'm," he said, "not a bad beginning of a new leaf.
My friend, I will allow you exactly twelve months in which to get
hanged."

I made no answer, and we stepped out into the night. The moon was
now up, and the high-road stretched like a white ribbon into the
gloom. The cold wind bore up a few heavy clouds from the north-west,
but for the most part we could see easily enough. We trudged side by
side along the road in silence, except that I could hear my companion
every now and then whistling softly to himself.

As we drew near to the Four Holed Cross and the scene of the murder I
confess to an uneasy feeling and a desire to get past the place with
all speed. But the lawyer stopped by the very spot where the coach
was overturned, and held up a finger as if to call attention. It was
a favourite trick of his with the jury.

"This was where