'You think,' he murmured--his voice was sunk almost to a whisper--'to bring a man--a murderer--to make an end--that is your revenge. But you shall not. I will send to the Warden for protection. Go away. Leave me alone. I can do you no more harm. I will have no doctor sent by you, to poison me.' 'Do you know, Matthew, that Probus received such terrible injuries in pillory that he will remain blind for the rest of his life?' 'Blind?' he sat up eagerly repeating. 'Blind for the rest of his life. Ha! Then he will not be able to find me. Will, he wanted to get you hung--so as to be out of the way. He was going to try next to get me hung. Then all the money would be his. Blind, is he? Then he can't find me. Will, the man is a devil; now a blind devil; a devil in the dark.' The thought seemed to revive and to comfort him. 'The other man, Merridew, was killed by the mob in pillory.' 'Killed--killed--by the mob. I was afraid he was going to give me up for the reward. Then I am safe; at last. Both of them out of the way. Now I shall prosper again.' 'Yes--you are quite safe.' 'Will,' he held out his hand. 'Don't bear malice. Don't give information against me.' 'I am not going to give any information against you.' But I could not take his hand, for which I was afterwards sorry. 'The information ought to be worth fifty pounds at least and a Tyburn ticket--a Tyburn ticket,' he went on repeating the words over one after the other, which showed the weakness of his condition. It is useless setting down all the nonsense he talked. After a while I left him and looked about for someone who would attend to him. Presently I found an old man in rags, almost as bad as Matthew's, who undertook to look after him and give him some food from time to time. So I went away and repaired to my daily post at Newgate again, saying nothing to Jenny about this illness. I repeat that I had no thought of anything but what they call a feverish cold, which would be checked by the warmth and the food. You may therefore imagine my surprise when I went to visit the sick man in the morning to learn that he was dead. 'He talked a lot of nonsense,' said the old man, his nurse; 'all day long he talked nonsense about murdering and hanging, and dividing thousands. Now and then I gave him a bit and a sup and he went on talking. There was no candle and I lay down beside him with a corner of his blanket over me, and in the middle of the night I woke up and found that he had left off talking and was quite still and cold. So I went to sleep again.' The insensate wretch had actually finished his sleep beside the corpse. Matthew was dead. They showed me his body lying in a small shed against the wall. It was laid in a shell of pinewood roughly painted black, with no name or plate upon it. It was to be taken across to the churchyard of St. George's that afternoon, to be laid in a pauper's grave without mourners or friends, and with a service hurriedly gabbled over his coffin.