, he'll neither have name, nor wealth for his inheritance. The
assassination, as you call it, was, obviously, the vengeance of a
kinsman of the injured lady, who no doubt was of good family, upon her
seducer. The less said, therefore, on this point the better; because, as
nothing is to be gained by it, it would only be trouble thrown away.
But, if you have any particular fancy for hanging the gentleman, who
chose to take the law into his own hands--and I think your motive
extremely disinterested and praiseworthy--why, it's just possible, if
you make it worth my while, that your desires may be gratified."

"I don't see how this is to be effected, unless you yourself were
present at the time," said Wood, glancing suspiciously at the speaker.

"I had no hand in the affair," replied Jackson, bluntly; "but I know
those who had; and could bring forward evidence, if you require it."

"The best evidence would be afforded by an accomplice of the assassin,"
rejoined Thames, who was greatly offended by the insinuation as to his
parentage.

"Perhaps you could point out such a party, Mr. Jackson?" said Wood,
significantly.

"I could," replied Thames.

"Then you need no further information from me," rejoined Jackson,
sternly.

"Stay!" cried Wood, "this is a most perplexing business--if you really
are privy to the affair----"

"We'll talk of it to-morrow, Sir," returned Jackson, cutting him short.
"In the mean time, with your permission, I'll just make a few minutes of
our conversation."

"As many as you please," replied Wood, walking towards the
chimney-piece, and taking down a constable's, staff, which hung upon a
nail.

Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately
sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. While
he was thus occupied, Thames, prompted by an unaccountable feeling of
curiosity, took up the penknife which the other had just used, and
examined the haft. What he there noticed occasioned a marked change in
his demeanour. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and
distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of
anything having happened.

"There," cried Jackson, closing the book and rising, "that'll do.
To-morrow at twelve I'll be with you, Mr. Wood. Make up your mind as to
the terms, and I'll engage to find the man."

"Hold!" exclaimed the carpenter, in an authoritative voice: "we can't
part thus. Thames, look the door." (An order