nvestigate his
effects.

It may have been that the speedy action of the drug caused its effect to
be evanescent, or, perhaps, that the strong constitution of the victim
threw it off with unusual rapidity. Whatever the cause, it is certain
that John Huxford suddenly came to himself, and found the foul trio
squatted round their booty, which they were dividing into the two
categories of what was of value and should be taken, and what was
valueless and might therefore be left. With a bound he sprang out of
bed, and seizing the fellow nearest him by the collar, he slung him
through the open doorway. His brother rushed at him, but the young
Devonshire man met him with such a facer that he dropped in a heap
upon the ground. Unfortunately, the violence of the blow caused him to
overbalance himself, and, tripping over his prostrate antagonist, he
came down heavily upon his face. Before he could rise, the old hag
sprang upon his back and clung to him, shrieking to her son to bring the
poker. John managed to shake himself clear of them both, but before he
could stand on his guard he was felled from behind by a crashing blow
from an iron bar, which stretched him senseless upon the floor.

"You've hit too hard, Joe," said the old woman, looking down at the
prostrate figure. "I heard the bone go."

"If I hadn't fetched him down he'd ha' been too many for us," said the
young villain sulkily.

"Still, you might ha' done it without killing him, clumsy," said his
mother. She had had a large experience of such scenes, and knew the
difference between a stunning blow and a fatal one.

"He's still breathing," the other said, examining him; "the back o' his
head's like a bag o' dice though. The skull's all splintered. He can't
last. What are we to do?"

"He'll never come to himself again," the other brother remarked. "Sarve
him right. Look at my face! Let's see, mother; who's in the house?"

"Only four drunk sailors."

"They wouldn't turn out for any noise. It's all quiet in the street.
Let's carry him down a bit, Joe, and leave him there. He can die there,
and no one think the worse of us."

"Take all the papers out of his pocket, then," the mother suggested;
"they might help the police to trace him. His watch, too, and his
money--L3 odd; better than nothing. Now carry him softly and don't
slip."

Kicking off their shoes, the two brothers carried the dying man down
stairs and along the deserted street for a couple of hundred yar