He felt as if some unnatural and hideous being was watching him, and dogging his noiseless footsteps. What could it be? He knew not. Some dreadful fear compelled him to crouch down low upon the landing from sheer exhaustion. Bang! bang! suddenly burst out upon his astonished ears, and awoke loud echoes in the old farm-house. A double-barrelled gun had been discharged at him, loaded with buck-shot, and by some one concealed at the head of the stairs. A loud groan followed the flashes and report. CHAPTER III. THE MURDER OF FARMER BERTRAM—THE LEGLESS BODY—SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF THE SKELETON CREW. “Black-hearted scoundrel!” said a voice, not far off. “Black-hearted scoundrel! I knew by the wicked twinkle of his eye that he meant me ill. Cunning as he was I have outwitted him. He is dead! He came here to rob and murder me! I will go and get a light, and view the body. Heaven knows, I did it in self-defence. What could an old man like I do with such a villain as that lying dead on the stairs, if he had once got into my chamber and found me in bed? Oh! Bolton, you lie a cold and bloody helpless carcase now, and you deserved it. The story of my son was a cruel trick, but you have paid dearly for it. I will go and get a light; I saw him in the orchard, and watched him.” So saying, the old man walked across the landing into a chamber near his own where the lamp was. At that instant Bolton rose quickly and bolt upright. He was untouched! The shot had in both instances missed him, for he had lain flat on the staircase. He had groaned, it is true. But this was in order to deceive old Bertram. In a second he ascended the stairs, looked to his pistols, and, with Bob’s bludgeon in hand, stood beside the farmer’s chamber door. He peeped in. Bertram stood with his back towards the door trimming a lamp. Bolton creeped up behind him. In a moment the heavy bludgeon was raised, and descended with frightful force on the old man’s head! A fearful crash it was. In a second afterwards Farmer Bertram lay groaning on the floor. “Murderer! my footsteps shall follow you wherever you go. When least you expect me I will appear to you! on land or sea; in your gay moments, in your sad moments; when alone, or when surrounded by friends; sleeping or waking, _I_, Bertram, your murdered victim, will stand by your side in the most horrid form, and follow you wherever you go!” While thus cursing, Bertram rose, and, in his death grasp, took hold of Bolton’s throat, but Bolton, with a loud shriek, dashed the murdered man from him, and hurried into the next chamber to search for his gold. He found several bags of money in an old oak chest. The sight of the glittering coin ravished his eyes, dancing as they were with fiendish triumph. “’Tis well,” said Bolton, “the old man is richer than I thought. Now for the notes; he has them concealed in the lining of his boots.” Emptying the gold into his many large capacious pockets he unsheathed his dirk.