"Last night I dreamt that my brother was at Trebodwina Market, and that I
was with him, quite close by his side, during the whole of the market
transactions. Although I could see and hear which passed around me, I felt
sure that it was not my bodily presence which thus accompanied him, but my
shadow or rather my spiritual presence, for he seemed quite unconscious
that I was near him. I felt that my being thus present in this strange way
betokened some hidden danger which he was destined to meet, and which I
know my presence could not avert, for I could not speak to warn him of his
peril."

The story then proceeds to relate how Hart collected considerable money at
Trebodwina Market, and then started to ride homeward. George tells what
happened to his brother on the way, as follows:

"My terror gradually increased as Hart approached the hamlet of Polkerrow,
until I was in a perfect frenzy, frantically desirous, yet unable to warn
my brother in some way and prevent him from going further. I suddenly
became aware of two dark shadows thrown across the road. I felt that my
brother's hour had come, and I was powerless to aid him! Two men appeared,
whom I instantly recognized as notorious poachers who lived in a lonely
wood near St. Eglos. They wished him 'Good night, mister!' civilly
enough. He replied, and entered into conversation with them about some
work he had promised them. After a few minutes they asked him for some
money. The elder of the two brothers, who was standing near the horse's
head, said: 'Mr. Northey, we know you have just come from Trebodwina
Market with plenty of money in your pockets; we are desperate men, and you
bean't going to leave this place until we've got that money; so hand
over!' My brother made no reply except to slash at him with the whip, and
spur the horse at him.

"The younger of the ruffians instantly drew a pistol, and fired. Hart
dropped lifeless from the saddle, and one of the villains held him by the
throat with a grip of iron for some minutes, as thought to make assurance
doubly sure, and crush out any particle of life my poor brother might have
left. The murderers secured the horse to a tree in the orchard, and,
having rifled the corpse, they dragged it up the stream, concealing it
under the overhanging banks of the water-course. Then they carefully
covered over all marks of blood on the road, and hid the pistol in the
thatch of a disused hut close to the roadside; then, setting the