t his reason had deserted him. Again
and again he struggled to compose himself, and again and again laughter
overwhelmed him like a tide. In all this maddening interview there had
been no more spectral feature than this of Michael's merriment; and
Pitman and Morris, drawn together by the common fear, exchanged glances
of anxiety.

"Morris," gasped the lawyer, when he was at last able to articulate,
"hold on, I see it all now. I can make it clear in one word. Here's the
key: _I never guessed it was Uncle Joseph till this moment._"

This remark produced an instant lightening of the tension for Morris.
For Pitman it quenched the last ray of hope and daylight. Uncle Joseph,
whom he had left an hour ago in Norfolk Street, pasting newspaper
cuttings?--it?--the dead body?--then who was he, Pitman? and was this
Waterloo Station or Colney Hatch?

"To be sure!" cried Morris; "it was badly smashed, I know. How stupid
not to think of that! Why, then, all's clear; and, my dear Michael, I'll
tell you what--we're saved, both saved. You get the tontine--I don't
grudge it you the least--and I get the leather business, which is really
beginning to look up. Declare the death at once, don't mind me in the
smallest, don't consider me; declare the death, and we're all right."

"Ah, but I can't declare it," said Michael.

"Why not?" cried Morris.

"I can't produce the corpus, Morris. I've lost it," said the lawyer.

"Stop a bit," ejaculated the leather merchant. "How is this? It's not
possible. I lost it."

"Well, I've lost it too, my son," said Michael, with extreme serenity.
"Not recognising it, you see, and suspecting something irregular in its
origin, I got rid of--what shall we say?--got rid of the proceeds at
once."

"You got rid of the body? What made you do that?" wailed Morris. "But
you can get it again? You know where it is?"

"I wish I did, Morris, and you may believe me there, for it would be a
small sum in my pocket; but the fact is, I don't," said Michael.

"Good Lord," said Morris, addressing heaven and earth, "good Lord, I've
lost the leather business!"

Michael was once more shaken with laughter.

"Why do you laugh, you fool?" cried his cousin, "you lose more than I.
You've bungled it worse than even I did. If you had a spark of feeling,
you would be shaking in your boots with vexation. But I'll tell you one
thing--I'll have that eight hundred pound--I'll have that and go to Swan
River--that's mine, anyway, an