"Great God!" he exclaimed. "Where is George Gordon? I am sure he was here. Did you see him, Andrews?"
No one answered, and seeing that we were all looking at him in amazement, he sprang to his feet, exclaiming:
"I deny the charge you have made against me; it is false in every particular."
"Then, Mr. Drysdale," said I, "you will probably deny that you buried the gold, which was taken from this bank, in the bed of Rocky Creek. Here it is," I added, uncovering the box, which had been placed near by.
He said nothing, but hung his head, and drew a long breath.
"Will you also deny that you buried the paper money in a grove near your house, on your plantation?" I continued, showing him the candle box.
He still said nothing, and I made a motion to Andrews to have Green ready for a re-appearance. Then I went on speaking.
"This money has all been identified as that which was stolen from the bank; it was found as I have stated. I also have here a partly burned note of yours, which you used to light the fire in the grate. I have examined these fragments of buttons, and I find that they are exactly like those on the coat which you brought home from New Orleans just before the murder; they were found in the grate yonder, where you burned your coat, but there is enough left of them to identify them. But if you are not satisfied with this evidence, that we can prove you are guilty, I will even call upon the murdered man himself, to testify against you."
As I spoke, Green slowly glided out toward us, with his white, set face, and bloody hair. Drysdale covered his face with his hands, dropped into a chair and shrieked:
"Oh! my God! I am guilty! I am guilty!" and he sank back, but did not faint.