sion.

As soon as my sickness had a little abated, and I was able to go out, I
went in the evening, a little before ten o'clock, to the neighbourhood
of where the coach from Edinburgh stopped. I walked about until its
arrival, shunning observation as much as possible. At length it came. No
one descended from it whom I recollected ever to have seen. Rendered
desperate, I followed two travellers into a public-house which they
entered, along with the guard. For some time, I sat an attentive
listener to their conversation. It was on indifferent subjects; and I
watched an opportunity to join in their talk. Speaking with an air of
indifference, I turned the conversation to the subject I had so much at
heart--the local news of the city. They gave me what little they had;
but not one word of it concerned my situation. I inquired at the guard
if he would, next morning, be so kind as take a letter to Edinburgh, for
Widow Neil, in the Low Calton.

"With pleasure," he said--"I know her well, as I live close by her shop;
but, poor woman, she has been very unwell for these two or three days
past. There has been some strange talk of a young lad who vanished from
her house, no one can tell how; she is likely to get into trouble from
the circumstance, for it is surmised he has been murdered in her house,
and his body carried off, as there was a quantity of blood upon the
floor. No one suspects her of it; but still it is considered strange
that she should have heard no noise, and can give no account of the
affair."

This statement of the guard surprised me exceedingly. Why was the affair
mentioned in so partial and unsatisfactory a manner? Why was I, a
murderer, suspected of being myself murdered? Why did not this lead to
an investigation, which must have exposed the whole horrid mystery of
the death of the individual up stairs? I could not understand it. My
mind became the more perplexed, the more I thought of it. Yet, so
far, I had no reason to complain. Nothing had been said in any respect
implicating me. Perhaps I had killed nobody; perhaps I had only wounded
some one who did not know whence the stab came; or perhaps the person
killed or wounded was an outlaw, and no discovery could be made of his
situation. All these thoughts rushed through my mind as I sat beside the
men. I at last left them, being afraid to put further questions.

I went to my lodgings and considered what I should do. I conceived it
safest to write no letters