“Pasco, let go! Pasco, will you kill me?” shrieked the crippled man, catching ineffectually at the floor through which he had crawled, then clutching the side of the ladder. Pepperill uttered an oath; he ran under the ladder, set his back against it and kicked with his heels. “Pasco! I’ll not tell—I swear!” “I won’t give you the chance,” gasped Pepperill. The ladder was reeling, sliding, the feet were slipping on the slate floor. A piercing scream, and down came ladder and man upon Pasco, throwing him on his knees, but precipitating the unfortunate cripple with a crash on the pavement. Pepperill, though shaken and bruised, was not seriously hurt. He gathered himself up, stretched his limbs, felt his arms, and with lowering brow stepped towards his prostrate brother-in-law, who lay on his back, his arms extended, the hands convulsively contracted. His chin was up, and the dim glow of the candle cast its light below the chin, and had no rays for the upper portion of the face. Pepperill felt in his pocket for the lucifer matches, and, stooping over Quarm, lit one, and passed the flame over his countenance. Jason was apparently insensible. Blood was flowing from his mouth at the corners. The flame of the match was reflected in the white of the upturned eyes. Pasco held the match till it burnt his fingers, then he let it fall, and remained considering for a moment. Should he let his brother-in-law lie where he was? Could he be sure that he would not awake from a momentary daze caused by the blow on his head as he fell on the stone floor? Pasco picked up a huge lump of coal and stood over Jason, ready to dash it down on his head, and make sure of his not awaking. But though his heart was hard, and he was launched on a course of crime, yet conscience makes strange distinctions in crime, and shrinks from doing boldly the evil at which it aims covertly. Pasco laid aside the block of coal. He would not dash out his brother-in-law’s brains, but he would by other means make sure that he should not rouse to give him future trouble. He took the sack, in which had been the shavings, and proceeded to thrust into it the legs of Quarm, who offered no more resistance than would a dead man, and gave no sign of consciousness. With much labour, Pasco drew the sack up, enclosing the body; he pulled down the arms and forced them into the sack also. But he was unable to envelop Jason completely. The sack was not of sufficient length for the purpose. It reached to his breast and elbows only. There was a rope hanging in the store to a crook in the wall. Pepperill disengaged this, and with the cord bound Jason’s feet, then tightly strapped him about the arms so as to make it impossible for him to free himself, should he return to consciousness. The exertion used by Pasco had steadied his nerves. He no longer trembled. His hand had ceased to shake, and his heart no longer contracted with fear.