“I never was more surprised in my life!” said Winthrop, [248] “and while I never liked the fellow, yet I had no idea he would commit murder.” The next day a warrant was issued for the arrest of J. Arthur Boast, charging him with the murder of Rufus Grim. A most diligent search was made, but the officer was unable to find him. His wife was in tears and prostrated with grief, declaring she had no idea of his whereabouts. It was the morning before Thanksgiving that Vance received a certain letter. It was from Arthur Boast, and read as follows: At Home. Dear Sir: Why I write to you above all others, is more than I can tell. An impulse, actuated by some wandering spirit from the regions of darkness and the damned, forces me to it. The things I want to do, I am unable to accomplish. The acts I loathe and abhor, I am made a cat’s-paw of to perform by some unknown impelling force. It may be that some men can shape their own destiny—mine has been shaped for me. I have never seen the time I did not fear you, and cannot remember the time I did not hate and despise you. I sought your friendship for protection. When I needed your support, you turned against me. Rufus Grim was my evil genius in this life, and he is more unbearable dead than living. Every night since I murdered him—yes, it was I who did the deed—he has visited me in my dreams All night long he walks up and down my bed-room—back and forth—and curses me. Sometimes I pull the covers well over my head, and try to sleep, but he pulls them off and rubs his cold, clammy hands threateningly over my face. He has found out also that I robbed the stage coach and bribed the sheriff. I am tired of it all. I have not slept for ten nights. My brain [249] is on fire. You want vengeance, but I intend to cheat you—yes? I will cheat you—and in this way I find my only consolation. An hour ago my attorney came to my hiding-place, and told me the higher courts had reversed the decision. When this is known all Gold Bluff will turn against me. Even now I can hear them hissing the words. Scoundrel! scoundrel! murderer! murderer! in tantalizing scorn. My ambition has always been to be wealthy. Now I am so poor that if I continued to live and was not hunted down and sent to prison, I would not even have a crust of bread to eat. Yes, Gibbons and Casey are now the owners of the Peacock mine—the higher courts have so decided. With their money, they’ll join you in persecuting me—but I’ll cheat them as well as you. Your longing for revenge shall not be satisfied. At the old prospect shaft on the Peacock, where I struck the fatal blow that hurled Rufus Grim into eternity, you will find all that remains of the persecuted, despised and hated. J. Arthur Boast. To Vance Gilder. A search was at once made, and his lifeless body found near the old prospect shaft. 9257 A bullet wound in his temple, and the weapon still clutched in his hand, told of the maniac’s suicide.