elation was Mr Anthony Chuzzlewit, who--'

'--Who died--to me?' said Martin. 'He was my grandfather's brother.'

'I fear he was made away with. Murdered!'

'My God!' said Martin. 'By whom?'

The young man, Lewsome, looked up in his face, and casting down his eyes
again, replied:

'I fear, by me.'

'By you?' cried Martin.

'Not by my act, but I fear by my means.'

'Speak out!' said Martin, 'and speak the truth.'

'I fear this IS the truth.'

Martin was about to interrupt him again, but John Westlock saying
softly, 'Let him tell his story in his own way,' Lewsome went on thus:

'I have been bred a surgeon, and for the last few years have served a
general practitioner in the City, as his assistant. While I was in
his employment I became acquainted with Jonas Chuzzlewit. He is the
principal in this deed.'

'What do you mean?' demanded Martin, sternly. 'Do you know he is the son
of the old man of whom you have spoken?'

'I do,' he answered.

He remained silent for some moments, when he resumed at the point where
he had left off.

'I have reason to know it; for I have often heard him wish his old
father dead, and complain of his being wearisome to him, and a drag
upon him. He was in the habit of doing so, at a place of meeting we
had--three or four of us--at night. There was no good in the place you
may suppose, when you hear that he was the chief of the party. I wish I
had died myself, and never seen it!'

He stopped again; and again resumed as before.

'We met to drink and game; not for large sums, but for sums that were
large to us. He generally won. Whether or no, he lent money at interest
to those who lost; and in this way, though I think we all secretly hated
him, he came to be the master of us. To propitiate him we made a jest of
his father; it began with his debtors; I was one; and we used to toast
a quicker journey to the old man, and a swift inheritance to the young
one.'

He paused again.

'One night he came there in a very bad humour. He had been greatly
tried, he said, by the old man that day. He and I were alone together;
and he angrily told me, that the old man was in his second childhood;
that he was weak, imbecile, and drivelling; as unbearable to himself as
he was to other people; and that it would be a charity to put him out of
the way. He swore that he had often thought of mixing something with the
stuff he took for his cough, which should help him to die easily. People
were somet