“Yes, sir,” said Hopcraft; “for he vowed to knock me on the head if I did not, and throw me after the other body.” “And you took some of the money stolen from the murdered man?” “That’s a true bill,” said Hopcraft. “But it was only two pounds; and Scammel swore that if I did not take it, and keep my tongue in my head, he would do for me in no time. And he would, too, your worships. He wor na a man to play with, worn’t Scammel. Oh, goodness gracious me! my life ever sin’ that has been a plague to me. He has been coming continjally o’ nights and threatening me to peach, and swear it was aw my doings, if I did not give him this, and that, and t’other. ‘For, Hopcraft,’ he said; ‘you’re in for it, you know; it’s all between me and you, and I can hang you any time.’” “‘Nay,’ I’ve said; ‘there’s those Shalcrosses; I seed them wi’ you at th’ lane-end.’ “‘Shalcrosses be d—d,’ he would say. ‘Where are they, Hopcraft—where are they? Tell me that.’ “And as nobody ever saw them after the murder I verily thought he’d murdered them too. God knows, may happen he has.” “But he used to come to you of nights. What was that for?” “I reckon,” said Hopcraft, “it was to see as all wor safe, and to threaten me afresh, and to squeeze something out of me. O gentlemen, everybody’s seen how things have gone wi’ me since th’ murder,—pigs, hens, cabbages, potatoes, everything; it was Scammel that came and fetched them. Oh, he was a leech, a blood-sucker! and he’d ha’ had my very heart’s blood out of me. Monny and monny a time my wife has said, ‘Go, Hopcraft, go and peach. It wor better to be hanged than live such a life as this. Aren’t we all starving? neither me nor th’ childer have hardly a rag on us, and as for living, it is not living, we are awlis as holler as drums. Let us all be hanged rather than live o’ thissons.’” “And why did not you follow your wife’s good advice?” “Why? ‘Coss Scammel was somewhere—God knows where, and would have been down on me before I could get up to Rockville, and he’d ha’ murdered me in broad day-light. O gentlemen, you dunna know what a devil that fellow wor.” It was very clear that Hopcraft had lived in an infatuation of terror of Scammel, and like a bird fascinated by a serpent dared not to move. There was no proof of his participating in the actual murder, but he joined in throwing the body into the river, had shared the spoil, and kept the murderer’s secret; and on those grounds the order for his committal was made out. No sooner, however, was this done, than Sir Henry’s valet, who had entered some time before, announced that there was an old man and woman, tramps, well-known, named Shalcross, waiting and wanting a hearing in Scammel’s case. “How odd,” said Sir Henry, “that they should turn up thus; for they have eluded all our inquiries after them, and all Boddily’s when out after Scammel. Let them come in.”