e. You tried other things first. You made him liberal offers, you
know; but he would have war to the knife, and he has got it. He is buried
at the bottom of that shaft."

"God forbid!"

"And you are all right."

"I am in hell," shrieked Bartley.

"Well, come out of it," said Monckton, "and let's talk sense. I--I read
the news at Derby, just as I was starting for London. I have been as near
the mine as I thought safe. They seem to be very busy clearing out both
shafts--two steam-engines, constant relays of workmen. Who has got the
job in hand?"

"I have," said Bartley.

"Well, that's clever of you to throw dust in their eyes, and put our
little game off your own shoulders. You want to save appearances? You
know you can not save William Hope."

"I can save him, and I will save him. God will have mercy on a penitent
assassin, as he once had upon a penitent thief."

Monckton stared at him and smiled.

"Who has been talking to you--the parson?"

"My own conscience. I abhor myself as much as I do you, you black
villain."

"Ah!" said Monckton, with a wicked glance, "that's how a man patters
before he splits upon his pals, to save his own skin. Now, look here, old
man, before you split on me ask yourself who had the greatest interest in
this job. You silenced a dangerous enemy, but what have I gained? you
ought to square with me first, as you promised. If you split upon me
before that, you will put yourself in the hole and leave me out of it."

"Villain and fool!" said Bartley, "these trifles do not trouble me now.
If Hope and my dear Mary are found dead in that mine, I'll tell how they
came by their death, and I'll die by my own hand."

Monckton said nothing, but looked at him keenly, and began at last to
feel uneasy.

"A shaft is but a narrow thing," Bartley rejoined; "why should they be
buried alive? let's get to them before they are starved to death. We may
save them yet."

"Why, you fool, they'll denounce us!"

"What do I care? I would save them both to-night if I was to stand in the
dock to-morrow."

"And swing on the gallows next week, or end your days in a prison."

"I'd take my chance," said Bartley, desperately. "I'll undo my crime if
I can. No punishment can equal the agony I am in now, thanks to you,
you villain."

Then turning on him suddenly, and showing him the white of his eyes like
a maniac, or a dangerous mastiff, he hissed out, "You think nothing of
the lives of better men; perhaps y