upon Thornton, who was still bending
over him, and looking at the contents of the book to see that all was
right; the moonlight left Tyrrell in no doubt as to our persons; and
struggling hard to get up, he cried, 'I know you! I know you! you shall
hang for this.' No sooner had he uttered this imprudence, than it was
all over with him. 'We will see that, Sir John,' said Thornton,
setting his knee upon Tyrrell's chest, and nailing him down. While thus
employed, he told me to feel in his coat-pocket for a case-knife.

"'For God's sake!' cried Tyrrell, with a tone of agonizing terror which
haunts me still, 'spare my life!'

"'It is too late,' said Thornton, deliberately, and taking the knife
from my hands, he plunged it into Sir John's side, and as the blade was
too short to reach the vitals, Thornton drew it backwards and forwards
to widen the wound. Tyrrell was a strong man, and still continued to
struggle and call out for mercy--Thornton drew out the knife--Tyrrell
seized it by the blade, and his fingers were cut through before Thornton
could snatch it from his grasp; the wretched gentleman then saw all hope
was over; he uttered one loud, sharp, cry of despair. Thornton put one
hand to his mouth, and with the other gashed his throat from ear to ear.

"'You have done for him, and for us now,' said I, as Thornton slowly
rose from the body. 'No,' replied he, 'look, he still moves;' and sure
enough he did, but it was in the last agony. However, Thornton, to make
all sure, plunged the knife again into his body; the blade came into
contact with a bone, and snapped in two; so great was the violence of
the blow, that instead of remaining in the flesh, the broken piece fell
upon the ground among the long fern and grass.

"While we were employed in searching for it: Thornton, whose ears were
much sharper than mine, caught the sound of a horse. 'Mount! mount,' he
cried; 'and let us be off.' We sprung up on our horses, and rode away
as fast as we could. I wished to go home, as it was so near at hand; but
Thornton insisted on making to an old shed, about a quarter of a mile
across the fields; thither, therefore, we went."

"Stop," said I, "what did Thornton do with the remaining part of the
case-knife? did he throw it away, or carry it with him?"

"He took it with him," answered Dawson, "for his name was engraved on a
silver plate, on the handle; and, he was therefore afraid of throwing it
into the pond, as I advised, lest at a