e, as if it gave him physical
pain.

"What are you here for?" he screamed out at last.

In strong contrast to the shrill, strained voice, the answer came slow
and stern. "To arrest Charles Forrester's murderer."

Then Bruce seemed to lose his head all at once, and began to rave. It is
impossible to transcribe the string of protestations, prayers for mercy,
and horrible blasphemies; but there was enough of self-betrayal to
complete the proof we wanted ten times told. The detective chuckled
more complacently than ever as he insinuated the handcuffs round
Macbane's wrists. Over all Bruce's cries, I remember, the old man's
harsh voice made itself heard, "Whisht, whisht, I tell ye, and keep a
quiet tongue; they canna harm ye." The other did not seem to hear him,
or to notice his removal by the officers, muttering, as he went, that
"we had driven his master mad, and were killing him."

Livingstone waited patiently till the outbreak had spent itself; then he
said, "Get up, and come with us instantly. You shall finish your night
in Newgate."

Tho sick man lay back for some moments with his eyes closed, panting and
evidently quite exhausted. When he opened his eyes there was a
steadiness in them which surprised us. He spoke, too, quite calmly. "I
do not mean to deny any thing, nor to resist, even if I could. I am
tired of running away; it is as well over; but I was taken by surprise
at first. Guy Livingstone, do you choose to listen to me for five
minutes? My head is clear now. I do not know how long it will last; but
I do know that, after to-night, I will never speak about Forrester's
death one word."

"Will you tell me how you killed him?" Livingstone asked, controlling
his voice wonderfully.

"That is what I wish to do," Bruce said. I believe he was glad of the
opportunity of showing us how much we had misjudged him in thinking him
harmless, for a curious sort of grin was hovering about his mouth. Guy,
whose eyes were bent down at the moment, did not see it, or the tale
would never have been told.

"You know how you were all against me at Kerton," he began. "She did
not care for me then, perhaps; but I would have been so patient and
persevering that she must have loved me at last--only you never gave me
fair play. Ah! do you think, because I was ugly and awkward, I had no
chance?"

"No; but because she knew you were a coward," Guy said.

There was something grand in the utter indifference with which Bruce met
th