a near cut to the lodge
across the fields.

I entered at a back gate, and going up to my own room, I carefully
washed my bands and face, and dressed myself in the clothes I had worn
during the day, thrusting the waggoner's frock and hat, and the fatal
pocket-book, into an old sack. I hastily concealed them in a heap of old
manure, which had served for a hot-bed in the garden, until a better
opportunity occurred of effectually destroying them. All this was
accomplished in an almost incredibly short time; and when my
arrangements were completed, I once more had recourse to the
brandy-bottle, but took good care this time not to take too potent a
dose. I then shouldered my gun, and walked to the cottage of the second
game-keeper, which lay in my path, and briefly stating my reasons for
calling him up, I asked him to accompany me to the second avenue gate to
meet my master.

George Norton instantly complied, and we walked together to the
appointed spot, discussing in the most animated manner, as we went
along, the probable result of the cricket-match at S----.

As we entered the first plantation, we were accosted by Bill Martin and
Adam Hows. Both were greatly excited, and exclaimed in a breath,--

"Mr. Carlos has been robbed and murdered! The body is lying just within
the second gate, in the middle of the path. Come with us and see!"

"And what brings you here, you scoundrel! at this hour of night?" I
cried suddenly, throwing myself upon Bill Martin. "What business have
you trespassing in these preserves? If Mr. Carlos is murdered, it is you
and your accomplice that have done the deed. It is not pheasants and
hares that you came here to shoot, as the muzzle of that pistol,
sticking out of your pocket, can prove."

On hearing these words Adam Hows discharged a pistol at my head, and
missing his aim, threw down the weapon and fled. Bill Martin struggled
desperately in my grasp, but I held him fast. I was a strong, powerful
man, and he was enfeebled by constant drunkenness and debauchery. I held
him like fate.

Norton now came to my assistance, and we secured Martin's hands with my
silk pocket-handkerchief. I remained with my grasp upon his collar,
while Norton ran back to the village to fetch the constables.

It was one of the most awful moments in my life, while I stood alone in
that gloomy grove confronting my victim. He neither spoke nor trembled.
The unhappy man seemed astonished and bewildered at what had befal