than brains in me at the time. But
they all cried out as they'd join me, so we had t'other pint; and then
we put back the bracelet, and stuffed in a lot of papers with it, and
locked up the bag as it was afore."

"And the book?" asked Bradly, eagerly.

"Oh, we never thought about the book; it's never crossed my mind from
that day to this. I suppose we forgot all about it, we was so taken up
with the other thing. I daresay the landlady's daughter found it under
the table; and if she did, she'd be sure to keep it snug and not say
anything about it, as it might have told tales."

"Perhaps so, Ned. And what did you do next?"

"Why, we went our ways home; and Joe Wright took charge of the bag, as
his house was nearest the road as leads to the cutting. We all met at
poor Joe's at half-past nine, and walked together to the wooden bridge.
It were a rainy night, and the timbers of the bridge was very slippy.
It was proposed for Joe to drop the bag, and he were quite willing. I
was in a bit of a fright about him all the time, for he'd drunk more
than any of us, and his legs and hands wasn't over steady. Howsomever,
we'd no time to lose, so Joe got over the side of the bridge, and down
among the timbers, and the train came rushing on, and, as we stooped
over the side, we could see as the bag fell plump on to the top of the
carriage. We knowed afterwards as _that_ were all right; for if the bag
had dropped on one side, or been shook off, the police would have been
sure to have found it. And then poor Joe--eh! It were awful; I can't
bear to think of it. The Lord forgive me for having had aught to do
with it!--he tried to climb back, poor chap; but the great big beams was
wide to grasp, and very slippy with the rain, and he weren't used to
that sort of thing, and so he lost his hold, and down he fell on to the
rails, quite stunned; and, afore any on us could get at him, the
stopping train were on him, and he were a dead man."

The sick man, having thus finished his story, sank back exhausted; but,
recovering himself after a while, he said, "Well, Thomas, I've eased my
mind: you know all. If it hadn't been for me, poor Joe'd never have
come to that shocking end. I hope the Lord'll forgive me. But you may
be sure neither me nor my mates meant any harm to poor Joe."

"That's quite clear, Ned," replied Bradly, gravely; "it was indeed a
wild and foolish thing to do, but when the liquor's in the wit's out.
No doubt you