le."

"Why, I see you with my own eyes," said the man.

"Yes, I did drop the net over, but it was only out of mischief. I did
not think it would do more than duck him well. I never thought it would
be so dangerous. I meant it in fun."

"But it _was_ dangerous," said Zekle with a grin; "and as people know
you hate Mas'r Harry, they'll say you meant to mur--"

"Hush!" cried Penelly again; and he clapped his hand once more upon the
speaker's lips.

"Oh, that won't stop me from speaking!" said Zekle. "I'm going to tell
all I know, and it's my belief as they'll have you up, and bring it in
'tempt to kill young Mas'r Harry."

"But you won't speak about it, Zekle," said Penelly imploringly.

"But I just will," said Zekle, "and I come to ask you what they'll do to
you for it. I don't want to tell, but you see it's 'bout my dooty."

"I'll give you anything to be silent."

"But I must tell," said Zekle, shaking his head; "it's my dooty to, and
I wouldn't hold my tongue not for twenty pounds."

Penelly gave a gasp, and in those few moments of thought he saw all the
consequences of his escapade--the disgrace and shame--perhaps
prosecution for an attempt at murder, for a magistrate might refuse to
listen to his plea that it was only in fun.

But there was a gleam of hope. Zekle had mentioned money. He would not
hold his tongue for twenty pounds he said. Perhaps he would. Penelly
had not twenty pounds, nor yet five; but perhaps he could get it.
Turning to Zekle then he said:

"If I give you ten pounds, Zekle, will you swear that you will never say
a word?"

"No," said Zekle stoutly, "nor yet for twenty; and now I'm going to tell
all I know."

As he spoke he turned towards the door, and Mark Penelly made a clutch
at the nearest chair.

CHAPTER THREE.

HARRY PAUL'S PRESENT.

Zekle Wynn already had his hand upon the door when, mastering the
strange feeling of dread that had seized him, Mark Penelly caught him by
the arm and held him tightly:

"Look here, Zekle," he said hoarsely; "that was all a bit of fun--a
joke; but I don't want anyone to know. I'll give you fifteen pounds if
you'll hold your tongue."

"No," said Zekle, stoutly; "it's my duty to tell, and I'm agoing to
tell."

"Twenty pounds," cried Penelly.

"No, I said afore that I wouldn't do it for twenty pounds," said Zekle,
with a very virtuous shake of the head; and as he made an effort to get
away, Penelly, who felt desperate, offere