imself their mark, for both
Coates and Tyrconnel had fired upon him, and were now mounting their
steeds to give chase, it was impossible that Turpin could take sure aim;
added to which, in the struggle, Paterson and King were each moment
changing their relative positions. He, however, would no longer
hesitate, but again, at his friend's request, fired. The ball lodged
itself in King's breast! He fell at once. At this instant a shriek was
heard from the chaise: the window was thrown open, and her thick veil
being drawn aside, the features of a very pretty female, now impressed
with terror and contrition, were suddenly exhibited.

King fixed his glazing eyes upon her.

"Susan!" sighed he, "is it you that I behold?"

"Yes, yes, 'tis she, sure enough," said Paterson. "You see, ma'am, what
you and such like have brought him to. However, you'll lose your reward;
he's going fast enough."

"Reward!" gasped King; "reward! Did she betray me?"

"Ay, ay, sir," said Paterson, "she blowed the gaff, if it's any
consolation to you to know it."

"Consolation!" repeated the dying man; "perfidious!--oh!--the
prophecy--my best friend--Turpin--I die by his hand."

And vainly striving to raise himself, he fell backwards and expired.
Alas, poor Tom!

"Mr. Paterson! Mr. Paterson!" cried Coates; "leave the landlord to look
after the body of that dying ruffian, and mount with us in pursuit of
the living rascal. Come, sir; quick! mount! despatch! You see he is
yonder; he seems to hesitate; we shall have him now."

"Well, gemmen, I'm ready," said Paterson; "but how the devil came you to
let him escape?"

"Saint Patrick only knows!" said Titus; "he's as slippery as an
eel--and, like a cat, turn him which way you will, he is always sure to
alight upon his legs. I wouldn't wonder but we lose him now, after all,
though he has such a small start. That mare flies like the wind."

"He shall have a tight run for it, at all events," said Paterson,
putting spurs into his horse. "I've got a good nag under me, and you are
neither of you badly mounted. He's only three hundred yards before us,
and the devil's in it if we can't run him down. It's a three hundred
pound job, Mr. Coates, and well worth a race."

"You shall have another hundred from me, sir, if you take him," said
Coates, urging his steed forward.

"Thank you, sir, thank you. Follow my directions, and we'll make sure of
him," said the constable. "Gently, gently, not so fast up the hi