and then resting on the floor. He
sat for some time looking steadfastly down, his face gradually regaining
its stern, unbending character; his thin lips compressing themselves,
until his mouth had assumed its usual expression of bitterness, mingled
with resolution.

The two men watched, without speaking, the progress of this metamorphosis.
At last he rose, and turning to Grosket, said in a calm voice:

'You've done your worst; yet you see Michael Rust can bear it;' and then
bowing to him, he said: 'Good bye, Enoch. Whatever may have happened to
_my_ child, _I_ am blameless. _I_ never sold her happiness to gratify my
avarice. If she has become what Enoch's child was, the sin does not lie at
_my_ door. I don't know how it is with _you_.'

Turning to Jones, he said, in the same quiet tone: 'Murderer of your
bosom-friend, good bye.' The door closed, and he was gone.

A bitter execration from the two men followed him. From Jones, it burst
forth in unbridled fury, and he sprang forward to avenge the taunt, but
was withheld by Grosket, who grasped his arm, then as suddenly
relinquished his hold, and said:

'Quick! quick! Jones. Drag him back! It concerns your safety and my plans
to get him back.'

The man dashed to the door and down the stairs. In a moment he reaeppeared:

'It's too late. He's in the street.'

'Curse it! that was a blunder! We should have searched him. He carries all
his papers with him.'

But almost at the same moment he seemed to overcome his vexation, for he
said: 'Well, it can't be helped, so there's no use in grumbling about it.
And now, Bill Jones,' said he, turning to the other, 'you know what you've
done, and who set you on. So do I. He's worse than you are. If you were
him, I'd arrest you on the spot. As it is, I say you had better make
yourself scarce. Your neck is in danger, for although the death of Tim, if
the rumor is true, was accidental----'

'It was, it _was_, Mr. Grosket,' interrupted Jones. 'D--n it, if it was
Rust, if it was only _him_, I wouldn't mind it. I'd die myself, to see
_him_ swing.'

'Well, hear me,' continued Grosket. 'You were committing a felony when you
killed Craig, and his death, although accidental, is murder. I'm no
lawyer, but I know _that_. You must run for it.'

'I'd cuss all danger,' said Jones, gnawing his lip, 'if I could only lug
Rust in it too.'

'Well, well,' returned Grosket, 'you must take your own course; but
remember I've warned you. You have s