, and wondered; and
still the man remained unmoved. He looked again; the man changed his
position, and the light fell upon him from another direction. Harson knew
him at once. He started up: 'Murderer, I know you!'

The man was on his feet at the same moment.

'Down to your seat, Sir!' said he, in a loud, savage tone. 'You're right;
but you cannot take me alive, nor will mortal man. In that room,' said he,
in a low tone, and pointing toward the dark stair-case which led to the
upper part of the house, 'I killed Tim Craig--the only man that ever loved
me. He's been after me ever since!' He leaned his face toward Harson, and
looking stealthily over his shoulder said in a whisper: 'He's waiting for
me at the door. He sat down on the stoop when I came in. I don't know why
I came here, but _he_ made me do it, and I must see where I killed him. It
wasn't me. It was Rust; it was Rust. Hark!' He cast a hasty glance in the
room behind him. 'I'm going, Tim, I'm going,' said he. 'Quick! quick! give
me the light!'

Seizing the candle, before Harson could prevent him, he rushed out of the
room, and sprang up the stairs two at a time. Harson followed; but before
he reached the door of the upper room, with a yell so loud and unearthly
that it made the old man's heart stand still, the murderer darted out; his
face livid; his hair bristling, his eyes starting with horror. With a
single bound he cleared the stairs; crossed the antechamber, the gate
swung heavily to, and he was gone! And this was the last that was ever
known of Bill Jones. A few months afterward, the body of a man was found
floating in one of the docks, and was supposed to be his; but it was so
mutilated and disfigured, that it was impossible to ascertain the fact
with any certainty, and it was deposited in the earth with none to claim
it or care for it, and with no mark to designate that the soil above it
shrouded a heart which had once throbbed with all the hopes and fears and
passions that were burning in the bosoms of those who were carelessly
loitering above its resting place.

CHAPTER THIRTY.

Ned Somers had followed Harson's advice in not making his visits to
Rhoneland's too frequent. But whatever may have passed between him and
Kate, and even if they did occasionally meet in the street and stop to
speak, and sometimes to hold conversations which were neither short nor
uninteresting to themselves, that is a matter between themselves with
which we have nothin