your discourtesy. I was a fool
to tell you what I knew, but you had no right to serve me as you have
served me."

"P'raps I hadn't," responded Jim, doubtfully.

Yates went on:

"I have never intended to play you a trick. It may be a base thing for
me to do, but I intended to deceive Mr. Belcher. He is a man to whom I
owe no good will. He has always treated me like a dog, and he will
continue the treatment so long as I have anything to do with him; but he
found me when I was very low, and he has furnished me with the money
that has made it possible for me to redeem myself. Believe me, the
finding of Mr. Benedict was the most unwelcome discovery I ever made."

"Ye talk reasonable," said Jim; "but how be I goin' to know that ye're
tellin' the truth?"

"You cannot know," replied Yates. "The circumstances are all against me,
but you will be obliged to trust me. You are not going to kill me; you
are not going to harm me; for you would gain nothing by getting my ill
will. I forgive your indignities, for it was natural for you to be
provoked, and I provoked you needlessly--childishly, in fact; but after
what I have said, anything further in that line will not be borne."

"I've a good mind to lick ye now," said Jim, on hearing himself defied.

"You would be a fool to undertake it," said Yates.

"Well, what be ye goin' to tell old Belcher, anyway?" inquired Jim.

"I doubt whether I shall tell him anything. I have no intention of
telling him that Mr. Benedict is here, and I do not wish to tell him a
lie. I have intended to tell him that in all my journey to Sevenoaks I
did not find the object of my search, and that Jim Fenton declared that
but one pauper had ever come into the woods and died there."

"That's the truth," said Jim. "Benedict ain't no pauper, nor hain't been
since he left the poor-house."

"If he knows about old Tilden," said Yates, "and I'm afraid he does,
he'll know that I'm on the wrong scent. If he doesn't know about him,
he'll naturally conclude that the dead man was Mr. Benedict. That will
answer his purpose."

"Old Belcher ain't no fool," said Jim.

"Well," said Yates, "why doesn't Mr. Benedict come out like a man and
claim his rights? That would relieve me, and settle all the difficulties
of the case."

Benedict had nothing to say for this, for there was what he felt to be a
just reproach in it.

"It's the way he's made," replied Jim--"leastways, partly. When a man's
ben hauled through hel