"Very likely, sir."
"Oh, I know him well! Oh, he was a very fiend! But he is dead?"
"Yes."
"Oh, my son, this barren waste, those deep-down mines yonder have been peopled by his victims. Aye, the very wolves have gnawed the bones of his victims until they have come to know him as a benefactor, I'll dare be sworn. But he is dead–he has been executed! Thank Heaven!" and with another wild laugh he sank upon his couch and buried his face in the straw.
Barnwell stood gazing at him with awe and wonder.
"What a terrible history must be his," he thought, as he regarded him.
It was some moments before the old man regained sufficient composure to command himself.
Barnwell could say nothing, and so he waited for the old man to resume.
Presently, with a sigh, he roused himself and sat upright on his couch.
"How is it with you, sir?"