"I never even heard that he had disappeared till I came back!"
"That must remain to be proved," said the chairman. "I shall at once put this matter in the hands of the police. In the meanwhile, Mr. Raikes, being myself a magistrate, and used to deal with these cases, I advise you to offer no resistance; but to confess while confession may yet do you service. As for your accomplice...."
The frightened wretch fell upon his knees.
"I had no accomplice!" he cried. "Only have mercy upon me—only spare my life, and I will confess all! I didn't mean to harm him—I didn't mean to hurt a hair of his head! Only have mercy upon me, and let me go!"
The chairman rose in his place, pale and agitated.
"Good heavens!" he exclaimed, "what horrible mystery is this? What does it mean?"
"As sure as there is a God in heaven," said Jonathan Jelf, "it means that murder has been done."
"No—no—no!" shrieked Raikes, still upon his knees, and cowering like a beaten hound. "Not murder! No jury that ever sat could bring it in murder. I thought I had only stunned him—I never meant to do more than stun him! Manslaughter—manslaughter—not murder!"
Overcome by the horror of this unexpected revelation, the chairman covered his face with his hand, and for a moment or two remained silent.
"Miserable man," he said at length, "you have betrayed yourself."