at the smugglers were in favour of cutting my throat for
having discovered their hiding-place, and that the man himself was,
contrary to what I should have expected, arguing in my favour. He had
been a smuggler as well as a poacher, but although he had murdered Mr.
Faulkner, and knew that I had pursued him for that crime, he undoubtedly
saved my life. They first made me take an oath not to reveal their
hiding-place, and then said that they should carry me over to France,
and would take steps so that I should not return to England for some
years.

"What those steps will be I cannot say, but I feel sure that they will
in some way prevent my coming back for a long time. They can't keep me
themselves, but may hand me over as a prisoner to the French
authorities. Before we sailed the man told me he had learnt that a
warrant was out against me for the murder of Faulkner, and that Faulkner
had declared it was I who shot him. If I could possibly have escaped I
would have come back to stand my trial, though I can see plainly enough
that it might go very hard with me, for there would be only my word,
which would go for nothing against Faulkner's accusation, and the fact
of our quarrel. However, I would have come rather than disappear with
this awful charge against me. The man has given me permission, not only
to write and tell you this story, but even to give you his name, which
is Joseph Markham. He had only been a short time out of prison, where he
had been sent for poaching, and he killed Faulkner simply for revenge.
He told me that he did not mind my getting his name as, in the first
place, he had no idea of returning to Weymouth, and intended making
France his home; and, in the second place, because, although you might
believe my story, no one else would, and even if he showed himself in
Weymouth, this letter, written by a man accused of the murder, would not
be accepted for a moment against him. However, there is no doubt that
the fellow has behaved extremely well to me, and I should be sorry to
get him into trouble over this business with Faulkner, which is no
affair of mine.

"You can, of course, show this letter to whom you like, but I don't
expect anyone except you and Aunt to believe it. I have hopes of being
cleared some day, for Markham has promised me to write out a full
confession of his shooting Faulkner, and to swear to it before a French
magistrate. He is going to write it in duplicate, and carry one copy
abou