Pratt was very well acquainted with the spot at which he stood. Those old quarries had a certain picturesqueness. They had become grass-grown; ivy, shrubs, trees had clustered about them--the people who lived in the few houses half a mile away, sometimes walked around them; the children made a playground of the place: Pratt himself had often gone into some quiet corner to read and smoke. And now his quick mind immediately suggested a safe hiding place for this thing that he could not carry away with him, and dare not leave to the morning sun--close by was a pit, formerly used for some quarrying purpose, which was filled, always filled, with water. It was evidently of considerable depth; the water was black in it; the mouth was partly obscured by a maze of shrub and bramble. It had been like that ever since Pratt came to lodge in that part of the district--ten or twelve years before; it would probably remain like that for many a long year to come. That bit of land was absolutely useless and therefore neglected, and as long as rain fell and water drained, that pit would always be filled to its brim. He remembered something else: also close by where he stood--a heap of old iron things--broken and disused picks, smashed rails, fragments thrown aside when the last of the limestone had been torn out of the quarries. Once more luck was playing into his hands--those odds and ends might have been put there for the very purpose to which he now meant to turn them. And being certain that he was alone, and secure, Pratt proceeded to go about his unpleasant task skilfully and methodically. He fetched a quantity of the iron, fastened it to the dead man's clothing, drew the body, thus weighted, to the edge of the pit, and prepared to slide it into the black water. But there an idea struck him. While he made these preparations he had had hosts of ideas as to his operations next morning--this idea was supplementary to them. Quickly and methodically he removed the contents of Parrawhite's pockets to his own--everything: money, watch and chain, even a ring which the dead man had been evidently vain of. Then he let Parrawhite glide into the water--and after him he sent the heavy stick, carefully fastened to a bar of iron. Five minutes later, the surface of the water in that pit was as calm and unruffled as ever--not a ripple showed that it had been disturbed. And Pratt made his way out of the wilderness, swearing that he would never enter it again. CHAPTER VII THE SUPREME INDUCEMENT