"You infamous scoundrel!" said the doctor, unable to restrain his scorn and contempt; "why did you not say this before? Why did you permit all this misery and shame to fall upon the defenceless head of a woman for whom an honest man should have sacrificed his very life? How was this villainy consummated? Tell me, quickly!" The poor wretch sank upon his knees, and with a trembling voice exclaimed, "I loved her. I hated Tom Willitts. He sent her a bracelet. I knew it would come. I broke open father's cabinet and took his brooch. With threats and money I induced Tom's servant to lend me the box for a few moments before he entered the house. I placed the brooch in it. She thought it came from Tom, and she resolved to die rather than betray him, although she thinks him the cause of her ruin. It was vile and mean and wicked in me, but I thought Tom would be the victim, not she; and when the trouble came, I could not endure the shame of exposure. But you will save her now, doctor, will you not? I will fly--leave the country--kill myself--anything to prevent this awful crime." The miserable man burst into tears. Dr. Ricketts looked at him a moment with eyes filled with pity and scorn, and then said, "So my theory was right, after all. Come, sir, you will go to the governor with me, and we will see if he will grant a pardon upon your confession." "What, to-night?" asked Dick. "Yes, to-night--now; and it will be well for you and your victim if fleet horses carry us to Dover and back before ten to-morrow morning." In five minutes the pair were seated in a carriage, and through the black night they sped onward, the one with his heart swelling with hope, joy and humanity, the other cowering in the darkness, full of misery and self-contempt, and of horrible forebodings of the future. * * * * * Saturday morning--a cold, raw, gusty morning in May. The town was in a small uproar. Men lounged on the porches of the taverns, in front of which their horses were hitched, talking politics, discussing crop prospects, the prices of grain, the latest news by coach and schooner from Philadelphia. Inside the bar-room men were reading newspapers a month old, drinking, swearing and debating with loud voices. But the attraction that morning was in another quarter. In the middle of the market street there was a common--a strip of green sod twenty feet wide fringed on either side with a row of trees. In the centre of this stood the whipping-post and pillory. The hour of ten tolled out from the steeple down the street. It was the same bell that called the people together on Sunday to worship God and to supplicate his mercy. It was a bell of various uses. It summoned the saints to prayer and the sinners to punishment. [Illustration]