He was about to leave the last room, when the appearance of one of the beds attracted his attention; and on a closer examination, he perceived that it was saturated with blood. Moreover, on a chair close by, there were pieces of linen rag, on which large stains of gore were scarcely dry, together with lint and bandages—unquestionable proofs that a wound had very recently been dressed in that apartment. "No—that self-accuser has not deceived me!" thought Markham, as he contemplated these objects. "All circumstances combine to bear evidence to the truth of his assertion! Doubtless the gipsies have departed, carrying away the corpse with them!" He stood gazing on the blood-dyed bed at his feet musing in this manner; and then he thought how fearful was the fate of the miscreant, the evidences of whose death he believed to be beneath his eyes, cut off in the midst of his crimes without a moment's preparation or repentance! But suddenly he asked himself—"Am I certain that he is no more? That lint to stanch the blood—those bandages to bind the wound,—do they not rather bear testimony to a blow which was not fatal, but left life behind it? And yet, for what purpose could the body be removed—save for secret interment? Oh! if that man be yet alive—and if Eugene be indeed his accomplice or his patron——" And Markham experienced emotions of the most intense anguish! He loved his brother with the most ardent affection; and the idea that the individual so loved could be a criminal, or the friend of criminals, was harrowing to his soul. "But, after all," thought Richard, his naturally upright and almost severe principles asserting their empire in his mind,—"after all, ought I not to rejoice, if this man be indeed still alive, that he has survived the assassin's blow—that he is allowed leisure for repentance! My Maker, who can read all hearts, knows that I am not selfish; and yet it is a principle of our frail human nature to rejoice at the fall of a deadly enemy! Oh! when I think of all the wrongs and injuries I have experienced at the hands of that man,—exposures—persecutions—attempts upon my life,—I cannot pray that he may live to be the scourge of others—and perhaps of my brother—as he has been of me!" Unwilling to contend longer with the varied emotions which agitated his breast, Markham hurried from the room. The lower part of the house yet remained to be explored:—perhaps the body—if the Resurrection Man were indeed dead—had been removed to a room on the ground floor? Determined to leave no stone unturned to satisfy his doubts, Markham cautiously descended the stairs, and visited the refectory-rooms, one after the other. They were all empty. His candle was now waxing dim; but he saw that his search was nearly over. A flight of steps, apparently leading to offices in the basement of the building, alone remained for him to visit. To that part of the house he descended, and found himself in a small place which had the appearance of a scullery.