The two men watched, without speaking, the progress of this metamorphosis. At last he rose, and turning to Grosket, said in a calm voice: 'You've done your worst; yet you see Michael Rust can bear it;' and then bowing to him, he said: 'Good bye, Enoch. Whatever may have happened to _my_ child, _I_ am blameless. _I_ never sold her happiness to gratify my avarice. If she has become what Enoch's child was, the sin does not lie at _my_ door. I don't know how it is with _you_.' Turning to Jones, he said, in the same quiet tone: 'Murderer of your bosom-friend, good bye.' The door closed, and he was gone. A bitter execration from the two men followed him. From Jones, it burst forth in unbridled fury, and he sprang forward to avenge the taunt, but was withheld by Grosket, who grasped his arm, then as suddenly relinquished his hold, and said: 'Quick! quick! Jones. Drag him back! It concerns your safety and my plans to get him back.' The man dashed to the door and down the stairs. In a moment he reaeppeared: 'It's too late. He's in the street.' 'Curse it! that was a blunder! We should have searched him. He carries all his papers with him.' But almost at the same moment he seemed to overcome his vexation, for he said: 'Well, it can't be helped, so there's no use in grumbling about it. And now, Bill Jones,' said he, turning to the other, 'you know what you've done, and who set you on. So do I. He's worse than you are. If you were him, I'd arrest you on the spot. As it is, I say you had better make yourself scarce. Your neck is in danger, for although the death of Tim, if the rumor is true, was accidental----' 'It was, it _was_, Mr. Grosket,' interrupted Jones. 'D--n it, if it was Rust, if it was only _him_, I wouldn't mind it. I'd die myself, to see _him_ swing.' 'Well, hear me,' continued Grosket. 'You were committing a felony when you killed Craig, and his death, although accidental, is murder. I'm no lawyer, but I know _that_. You must run for it.' 'I'd cuss all danger,' said Jones, gnawing his lip, 'if I could only lug Rust in it too.' 'Well, well,' returned Grosket, 'you must take your own course; but remember I've warned you. You have some good traits about you, Bill, and that's more than Rust has. Good bye!' He extended his hand to the burglar. Jones grasped it eagerly. 'Thank you! thank you, Mr. Grosket,' said he, the tears starting to his eyes. 'If you only knew how I was brought up, how I suffered, what has made me what I am, you wouldn't think so hard of me as some do. But there is blood on me, now; that's worse than all. I'll never get over _that_. I might, if it wasn't Tim's. Good bye, God bless ye, Mr. Grosket! My blessing won't do you much good, but it can't hurt you.' Grosket shook his hand, and left the room; and the desperate man, whom he left melted by a transient word of kindness, which had found its way to his rugged heart, buried his face in his hands, and wept.