“I struck a match, and keeping the black crape well over my face, leaving only one eye uncovered, I peered into face after face of the fallen passengers, until I found my man, the lawyer from Carlisle, with the old squire’s wicked will in his possession.
“‘Hand out that beastly will and you shall not be hurt; but if you don’t——’
“He instantly drew a pistol, aimed it at my head and cocked it.
“I struck the weapon up with a swift stroke of my hand.
“Heaven knows I never meant to harm the man, but the pistol went off, and he fell, shot through the brain, as I afterwards learned. I did not know it then. I was mad with drink, I repeat, and what little mental power I had left was occupied with the will. I got it! It was safe in my hands. I hid it in my bosom.
“I hardly noted the increased confusion that was all around me, until one of my companions took me by the arm and whispered, hurriedly:
“‘Are you dead? What’s the matter with you? There’s murder done! The posse is upon us! Run!’
“It was true. The terrible noise had been heard even from that lonely road, the alarm had been given, and the constabulary force of the neighborhood, with all the stragglers that could be picked up at that hour, were coming.
“We made off into the thick woods that bordered the road, and made good our escape into the woods that bordered the road on either side—every one of us, except that poor boy who had nothing to do with the crime.
“I got off to America; for being the most deeply in for it, I knew I must put the broad ocean between me and my native land.