"Dick," said the general, "I promised to protect you on conditions, and I will. But you have done this gentleman an injury and endangered his life. You opened Rita Morgan's grave and broke her skull--an act for which the law has no adequate punishment; but my young friend here is desperate. You can save yourself but I cannot save you except over my dead body. If you refuse I will stand aside, and when I do you are a dead man." He was during this hurried speech still struggling with the young man. "I'll tell, Marse Evan! Hold 'im. I'll tell!" "Who, then?" said Edward, white with his passion; "who was the infamous villain that paid you for the deed?" "Mr. Royson, Mr. Royson, he hired me." The men looked at each other. A revulsion came over Edward; a horror, a hatred of the human race, of anything that bore the shape of man--but no; the kind, sad face of the old gentleman was beaming in triumph upon him. And then from somewhere into the scene came the half-dressed form of Virdow, his face careworn and weary, amazed and alarmed. Virdow wrote the confession in all its details, and the general witnessed the rude cross made by the trembling hand of the negro. And then they stood sorrowful and silent before the still, dead face of Gerald Morgan! CHAPTER XLVII. ON THE MARGINS OF TWO WORLDS. The discovery of Gerald's death necessitated a change of plans. The concealment of Slippery Dick and Edward must necessarily be accomplished at Ilexhurst. There were funeral arrangements to be made, the property cared for and Virdow to be rescued from his solitary and embarrassing position. Moreover, the gray dawn was on ere the confession was written, and Virdow had briefly explained the circumstances of Gerald's death. Exhausted by excitement and anxiety and the depression of grief, he went to his room and brought Edward a sealed packet which had been written and addressed to him during the early hours of the night. "You will find it all there," he said; "I cannot talk upon it." He went a moment to look upon the face of his friend and then, with a single pathetic gesture, turned and left them. One of the eccentricities of the former owner of Ilexhurst had been a granite smoke-house, not only burglar and fireproof but cyclone proof, and with its oaken door it constituted a formidable jail. With food and water, Dick, freed of his bonds, was ushered into this building, the small vents in the high roof affording enough light for most purposes. A messenger was then dispatched for Barksdale and Edward locked himself away from sight of chance callers in his upper room. The general, thoughtful and weary, sat by the dead man.