"you will probably deny that you buried
the gold, which was taken from this bank, in the bed of Rocky Creek.
Here it is," I added, uncovering the box, which had been placed near by.

He said nothing, but hung his head, and drew a long breath.

"Will you also deny that you buried the paper money in a grove near your
house, on your plantation?" I continued, showing him the candle box.

He still said nothing, and I made a motion to Andrews to have Green
ready for a re-appearance. Then I went on speaking.

"This money has all been identified as that which was stolen from the
bank; it was found as I have stated. I also have here a partly burned
note of yours, which you used to light the fire in the grate. I have
examined these fragments of buttons, and I find that they are exactly
like those on the coat which you brought home from New Orleans just
before the murder; they were found in the grate yonder, where you burned
your coat, but there is enough left of them to identify them. But if you
are not satisfied with this evidence, that we can prove you are guilty,
I will even call upon the murdered man himself, to testify against you."

As I spoke, Green slowly glided out toward us, with his white, set face,
and bloody hair. Drysdale covered his face with his hands, dropped into
a chair and shrieked:

"Oh! my God! I am guilty! I am guilty!" and he sank back, but did not
faint.

Green instantly retired, whence he came, and Drysdale continued
speaking, as if he obtained relief by confessing his crime.

"Yes, I am guilty, and I have suffered the tortures of the damned since
that frightful night. I do not know what made me do it, but I have never
known a moment's peace since then. My mind has been occupied with that
money constantly, and even in my sleep I would dream about it. Oh! it is
terrible!"

"Have you ever gone to look for it at night, Mr. Drysdale?" I asked, as
I wished to know whether he was aware of his somnambulism.

"Oh, no; I would not dare to go near it, but it has haunted me always."

"How did you come to murder George?" I asked.

"I can't tell," he replied, in a choking voice; "it all occurred like a
dream."

"What motive did you have? You surely could have got money without
resorting to robbery, much less murder."

"No, I could not. People think I am wealthy, but the fact is I lost a
great deal of money in speculating when I went to New Orleans, a few
months before the murder, and although I have a