think, Ezra," he said, clutching his son's arm, "that is a
very foolish saying about 'murder will out'? I remember Pilkington, the
detective, who was a member of our church when I used to worship at
Durham Street, speaking on this subject. He said that it was his
opinion that people are being continually made away with, and that not
more than one in ten are ever accounted for. Nine chances to one, Ezra,
and then those which are found out are very vulgar affairs. If a man of
intellect gave his mind to it, there would be little chance of
detection. How very cold the night is!"

"Yes," returned his son. "It is best to talk of such things in the open
air, though. How has all gone since you have been down here?"

"Very well. She was restive the first day, and wanted to get to
Bedsworth. I think that she has given it up now as a bad job.
Stevens, the gatekeeper, is a very worthy fellow."

"What steps have you taken?" asked Ezra, striking a fusee and lighting a
cigar.

"I have taken care that they should know that she is an invalid, both at
Bedsworth and at Claxton. They have all heard of the poor sick young
lady at the Priory. I have let them know also that her mind is a little
strange, which accounts, of course, for her being kept in solitude.
When it happens--"

"For God's sake, be quiet!" the young man cried, with a shudder.
"It's an awful job; it won't bear thinking of."

"Yes, it is a sad business; but what else is there?"

"And how would you do it?" Ezra asked, in a hoarse whisper.
"No violence, I hope."

"It may come to that. I have other plans in my head, however, which may
be tried first. I think that I see one way out of it which would
simplify matters."

"If there is no alternative I have a man who is ripe for any job of the
sort."

"Ah, who is that?"

"A fellow who can hit a good downright blow, as I can testify to my
cost. His name is Burt. He is the man who cut my head open in Africa.
I met him in London the other day, and spotted him at once. He is a
half-starved, poor devil, and as desperate as a man could be. He is
just in the key for any business of the sort. I've got the whip-hand of
him now, and he knows it, so that I could put him up to anything.
I believe that such a job would be a positive pleasure to him, for the
fellow is more like a wild beast than a man."

"Sad, sad!" Girdlestone exclaimed. "If a man once falls away, what is
there to separate him from the beasts?