himself out another glass of wine unbidden, and seemed to chew it, as, with the half-emptied glass in his hand, he stared at the candles.Mortimer glanced at Eugene, but Eugene sat glowering at his paper, and would give him no responsive glance. Mortimer again
turned to the informer, to whom he said:
'You have been troubled in your mind a long time, man?'
Giving his wine a final chew, and swallowing it, the informer answered in a single word:
'Hages!'
'When all that stir was made, when the Government reward was offered, when the police were on the alert, when the whole country
rang with the crime!' said Mortimer, impatiently.
'Hah!' Mr Riderhood very slowly and hoarsely chimed in, with several retrospective nods of his head. 'Warn't I troubled in my mind then!'
'When conjecture ran wild, when the most extravagant suspicions were afloat, when half a dozen innocent people might have been laid by the heels any hour in the day!' said Mortimer, almost warming.
'Hah!' Mr Riderhood chimed in, as before. 'Warn't I troubled in my mind through it all!'
'But he hadn't,' said Eugene, drawing a lady's head upon his writing-paper, and touching it at intervals, 'the opportunity then of earning so much money, you see.'
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'The T'other Governor hits the nail, Lawyer Lightwood! It was that as turned me. I had many times and again struggled to relieve myself of the trouble on my mind, but I couldn't get it off. I had once very nigh got it off to Miss Abbey Potterson which keeps the Six Jolly Fellowships--there is the 'ouse, it won't run away,--there lives the lady, she ain't likely to be struck dead afore you get there--ask her!--but I couldn't do it. At last, out comes the new bill with your own lawful name, Lawyer Lightwood, printed to it,
and then I asks the question of my own intellects, Am I to have this trouble on my mind for ever? Am I never to throw it off ? Am I
always to think more of Gaffer than of my own self ? If he's got a daughter, ain't I got a daughter?'
'And echo answered--?' Eugene suggested.
'"You have,"' said Mr Riderhood, in a firm tone.
'Incidentally mentioning, at the same time, her age?' inquired Eugene.
'Yes, governor. Two-and-twenty last October. And then I put it to myself, "Regarding the money. It is a pot of money." For it IS a pot,' said Mr Riderhood, with candour, 'and why deny it?'
'Hear!' from Eugene as he touched his drawing.
'"It is a pot of money; but is it a sin for a labouring man that moistens every crust of bread he earns, with his tears--or if not with them, with the colds he catches in his head--is it a sin for that man to earn it? Say there is anything again earning it." This I put to myself strong, as in duty bound; "how can it be said without blaming Lawyer Lightwood for offering it to be earned?" And was it for ME to blame Lawyer Lightwood? No.'
'No,' said Eugene.
'Certainly not, Governor,' Mr Riderhood acquiesced. 'So I made up my mind to get my trouble off my mind, and to earn by the
sweat of my brow what was held out to me. And what's more, he added, suddenly turning bloodthirsty, 'I mean to have it! And now I tell you, once and away, Lawyer Lightwood, that Jesse Hexam, commonly called Gaffer, his hand and no other, done the deed, on his own confession to me. And I give him up to you, and I want him took. This night!'
After another silence, broken only by the fall of the ashes in the grate, which attracted the informer's attention as if it were the
chinking of money, Mortimer Lightwood leaned over his friend, and said in a whisper:
'I suppose I must go with this fellow to our imperturbable friend at the police-station.'
'I suppose,' said Eugene, 'there is no help for it.'
'Do you believe him?'
'I believe him to be a thorough rascal. But he may tell the truth, for his own purpose, and for this occasion only.'
'It doesn't look like it.'
'HE doesn't,' said Eugene. 'But neither is his late partner, whom he denounces, a prepossessing person. The firm are cut-throat
Shepherds both, in appearance. I should like to ask him one thing.'
The subject of this conference sat leering at the ashes, trying with all his might to overhear what was said, but feigning abstraction as the 'Governors Both' glanced at him.
'You mentioned (twice, I think) a daughter of this Hexam's,' said Eugene, aloud. 'You don't mean to imply that she had any guilty knowledge of the crime?'
The honest man, after considering--perhaps considering how his answer might affect the fruits of the sweat of his brow--replied, unreservedly, 'No, I don't.'
'And you implicate no other person?'
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'It ain't what I implicate, it's what Gaffer implicated,' was the dogged and determined answer. 'I don't pretend to know more than that his words to me was, "I done it." Those was his words.'
'I must see this out, Mortimer,' whispered Eugene, rising. 'How shall we go?'
'Let us walk,' whispered Lightwood, 'and give this fellow time to think of it.'
Having exchanged the question and answer, they prepared themselves for going out, and Mr Riderhood rose. While extinguishing the candles, Lightwood, quite as a matter of course took up the glass from which that honest gentleman had drunk, and coolly tossed it under the grate, where it fell shivering into fragments.
'Now, if you will take the lead,' said Lightwood, 'Mr Wrayburn and I will follow. You know where to go, I suppose?'
'I suppose I do, Lawyer Lightwood.'
'Take the lead, then.'
The waterside character pulled his drowned cap over his ears with both hands, and making himself more round-shouldered than nature had made him, by the sullen and persistent slouch with which he went, went down the stairs, round by the Temple Church, across the Temple into Whitefriars, and so on by the waterside streets.
'Look at his hang-dog air,' said Lightwood, following.
'It strikes me rather as a hang-MAN air,' returned Eugene. 'He has undeniable intentions that way.'
They said little else as they followed. He went on before them as an ugly Fate might have done, and they kept him in view, and would have been glad enough to lose sight of him. But on he went before them, always at the same distance, and the same rate. Aslant against the hard implacable weather and the rough wind, he was no more to be driven back than hurried forward, but held on like an advancing Destiny. There came, when they were about midway on their journey, a heavy rush of hail, which in a few minutes pelted the streets clear, and whitened them. It made no difference to him. A man's life being to be taken and the price of it got, the hailstones to arrest the purpose must lie larger and deeper than those. He crashed through them, leaving marks in the fast-melting slush that were mere shapeless holes; one might have fancied,
