“A hold I had, but scarcely sufficient, squire. I am as a careful mariner who in the calmest sea, would like two anchors to hold his bark. The boy is a great thing; a valuable property; but human life is uncertain, and the Squire of Learmont deep and bold.” “What mean you?” “I mean, that I have lived upon the rack!“ said Gray, his pale face quivering with emotion. “Was I not by you watched, hunted like a wild beast to my lair? You know I was; and the possession of these papers would have made me sleep more soundly at night, for it would scarcely have been prudent of you to hunt a man who possessed such certain means of disinheriting you, even although you had paved your path to wealth with oceans of blood. I tell you I would possess these papers.” “And what benefit would the death of Britton have been to me, then?” Gray smiled hideously as he replied,— “It is always better to consolidate debts, Squire Learmont; you would have had one creditor then, instead of two. Then, likewise, I would have sold you the boy and left England forever.” “Indeed?” “Yes; with the papers.” “And yet,” said Learmont, after a pause, “with all these advantages to you resulting from the deed, you refuse to prosecute the enterprise of removing Britton safely, which I am quite sure that you can do.” “Hem!” said Gray, and his small eyes twinkled as he fixed them upon the countenance of the squire. “There is an old fable of two dogs fighting for a bone, while a third walks off unscathed with the object of contention. Squire Learmont, you are scarcely yet a match for Jacob Gray!” Learmont was silent, and Gray laughed, and then started in alarm at the unwonted sound of his own mirth. “You spoke of two reasons for the death of Britton,” said Learmont, after a pause of several minutes’ duration. “Ay,” said Gray, “I did, and there I was indiscreet. My second reason was, revenge. I hated Britton. I still hate him. I—I loathe him; and my deep hatred, the direful spirit of my revenge, urged me to run some little risk to gratify it. I knew your policy—I saw it as clearly as the sun at noon-day. But I was a little blinded by my revenge, and I did make an attempt to get the savage smith in my toils.” “You failed?” “Yes, because you were too hasty in your wish to get rid of Jacob Gray. You recollect the Bishop’s-walk on a certain frosty morning some time since?” “The Bishop’s-walk?” “Yes. There was a man who would have assisted me in the destruction of Britton. You, Squire Learmont, left that man a mangled, bleeding corpse in the Bishop’s Walk.” “I!” exclaimed Learmont.