He learns, with a frightful sinking of the heart, that Rainford was a highwayman--that he had been executed at Horsemonger Lane Gaol--that he had been resuscitated by some means or another with which the writer was unacquainted--that he had reappeared in London in the disguise of a Blackamoor--and that he had received the royal pardon for all his crimes. These details were incidentally given in the course of the narrative of the foul murder of Tamar, who was represented to have been Rainford’s wife;--and now also Charles Hatfield discovered how terrific was the connexion between the name of Benjamin Bones and the assassination of that ill-fated daughter of Israel. Yes--and he perceived, too, that _Benjamin Bones_ and _Old Death_ were one and the same individual;--and he shuddered from head to foot as he perused--nay, almost rushed through the details of the crime which had been committed nineteen years previously in the subterranean cells belonging to a house in Red Lion Street, Clerkenwell! But Charles Hatfield is not satisfied with what he has already _devoured_--for we can scarcely use the word _read_:--his curiosity to know more has become insatiable;--and guided by the hints and the observations occurring in the narrative of the murder, he refers to an earlier page in that volume, in order to obtain a full and complete insight into the trial and condemnation of Rainford--that Rainford whom he had loved so well! The whole particulars were given in detail and with accuracy,--the robbery of Sir Christopher Blunt--the capture of Rainford by Dykes and his myrmidons in Lock’s Fields--the trial--the condemnation--and the execution! Charles read--read on with horrified feelings which often threatened to get the better of him;--but there was one point in the evidence which rivetted his attention. Dykes, the officer, in explaining the mode in which the highwayman had been taken into custody, used these words:--“_When I and my people gained admittance into the house in Brandon Street, the prisoner was in bed with his mistress, a Jewess_.” “Then,” thought Charles Hatfield immediately, “Tamar was not his wife! Ah! that is clear enough--although the narrative of the murder would imply otherwise. But the only inference that can be drawn from this discrepancy, is that the reporter of the assassination was delicately and judiciously sparing of the feelings of the Medina family--whereas, in the former case, it was absolutely necessary to record the evidence just as it was given. Poor Tamar!--no wonder that thy name is never mentioned now by those who once knew thee--no wonder that even thy very sister, the Countess of Ellingham, seems to have forgotten thee!”