r, and then heaping loose mould
over the hiding-place. That he then repaired to his inn, and left
it late in the morning, on the pretence of seeking for his
relations,--persons, indeed, who really had been related to him, but
of whose death years ago he was aware. He returned to L---- a few days
afterwards, and in the dead of the night went to take up the casket and
the money. He found the purse with its contents undisturbed; but the
lid of the casket was unclosed. From the hasty glance he had taken of it
before burying it, it had seemed to him firmly locked,--he was alarmed
lest some one had been to the spot. But his Master whispered to him not
to mind, told him that he might now take the casket, and would be guided
what to do with it; that he did so, and, opening the lid, found the
casket empty-; that he took the rest of the money out of the purse, but
that he did not take the purse itself, for it had a crest and initials
on it, which might lead to the discovery of what had been done; that
he therefore left it in the hollow amongst the roots, heaping the mould
over it as before; that in the course of the day he heard the people at
the inn talk of the murder, and that his own first impulse was to get
out of the town immediately, but that his Master "made him too wise for
that," and bade him stay; that passing through the streets, he saw me
come out of the sash-window door, go to a stable-yard on the other side
of the house, mount on horseback and ride away; that he observed the
sash-door was left partially open; that he walked by it and saw the
room empty; there was only a dead wall opposite; the place was solitary,
unobserved; that his Master directed him to lift up the sash gently,
enter the room, and deposit the knife and the casket in a large
walnut-tree bureau which stood unlocked near the window. All that
followed--his visit to Mr. Vigors, his accusation against myself, his
whole tale--was, he said, dictated by his Master, who was highly pleased
with him, and promised to bring him safely through. And here he turned
round with a hideous smile, as if for approbation of his notable
cleverness and respect for his high employ.

Mr. Jeeves had the curiosity to request the keeper to inquire how, in
what form, or in what manner, the Fiend appeared to the narrator, or
conveyed his infernal dictates. The man at first refused to say; but
it was gradually drawn from him that the Demon had no certain and
invariable form: some