untimely close. To provide him a grave is a duty
that I owe to the dead and to the living. I shall quickly place myself
beyond the reach of inquisitors and judges, but would willingly rescue
from molestation or suspicion those whom I shall leave behind."

What would have been the fruit of deliberation, if I had had the time or
power to deliberate, I know not. My thoughts flowed with tumult and
rapidity. To shut this spectacle from my view was the first impulse; but
to desert this man, in a time of so much need, appeared a thankless and
dastardly deportment. To remain where I was, to conform implicitly to
his direction, required no effort. Some fear was connected with his
presence, and with that of the dead; but, in the tremulous confusion of
my present thoughts, solitude would conjure up a thousand phantoms.

I made no preparation to depart. I did not verbally assent to his
proposal. He interpreted my silence into acquiescence. He wrapped the
body in the carpet, and then, lifting one end, cast at me a look which
indicated his expectations that I would aid him in lifting this ghastly
burden. During this process, the silence was unbroken.

I knew not whither he intended to convey the corpse. He had talked of
burial, but no receptacle had been provided. How far safety might depend
upon his conduct in this particular, I was unable to estimate. I was in
too heartless a mood to utter my doubts. I followed his example in
raising the corpse from the floor.

He led the way into the passage and down-stairs. Having reached the
first floor, he unbolted a door which led into the cellar. The stairs
and passage were illuminated by lamps that hung from the ceiling and
were accustomed to burn during the night. Now, however, we were entering
darksome and murky recesses.

"Return," said he, in a tone of command, "and fetch the light. I will
wait for you."

I obeyed. As I returned with the light, a suspicion stole into my mind,
that Welbeck had taken this opportunity to fly; and that, on regaining
the foot of the stairs, I should find the spot deserted by all but the
dead. My blood was chilled by this image. The momentary resolution it
inspired was to follow the example of the fugitive, and leave the
persons whom the ensuing day might convene on this spot, to form their
own conjectures as to the cause of this catastrophe.

Meanwhile, I cast anxious eyes forward. Welbeck was discovered in the
same place and posture in which he had b