le and eager faces of men and women
filled the passage.

Cowen's room, being open, was entered first. On the floor lay what
Barbara had seen at a glance--his portmanteau rifled and the clothes
scattered about. The door of communication was ajar; they opened it,
and an appalling sight met their eyes: Mr. Gardiner was lying in a pool
of blood and moaning feebly. There was little hope of saving him; no
human body could long survive such a loss of the vital fluid. But it
so happened there was a country surgeon in the house. He stanched the
wounds--there were three--and somebody or other had the sense to beg
the victim to make a statement. He was unable at first; but, under
powerful stimulants, revived at last, and showed a strong wish to aid
justice in avenging him. By this time they had got a magistrate to
attend, and he put his ear to the dying man's lips; but others heard,
so hushed was the room and so keen the awe and curiosity of each
panting heart.

"I had gold in my portmanteau, and was afraid. I drank a bottle of
wine with Captain Cowen, and he left me. He lent me his key and his
pistols. I locked both doors. I felt very sleepy, and lay down. When
I woke, a man was leaning over my portmanteau. His back was toward me.
I took a pistol, and aimed steadily. It missed fire. The man turned
and sprang on me. I had caught up a knife, one we had for supper. I
stabbed him with all my force. He wrested it from me, and I felt
piercing blows. I am slain. Ay, I am slain."

"But the man, sir. Did you not see his face at all?"

"Not till he fell on me. But then, very plainly. The moon shone."

"Pray describe him."

"Broken hat."

"Yes."

"Hairy waistcoat."

"Yes."

"Enormous nose."

"Do you know him?"

"Ay. The hostler, Cox."

There was a groan of horror and a cry for vengeance.

"Silence," said the magistrate. "Mr. Gardiner, you are a dying man.
Words may kill. Be careful. Have you any doubts?"

"About what?"

"That the villain was Daniel Cox."

"None whatever."

At these words the men and women, who were glaring with pale faces and
all their senses strained at the dying man and his faint yet terrible
denunciation, broke into two bands; some remained rooted to the place,
the rest hurried, with cries of vengeance, in search of Daniel Cox.
They were met in the yard by two constables, and rushed first to the
stables, not that they hoped to find him there. Of course he had
abscond