The man-servant believed the tale; but he affected not to do so—for he was villain enough to rejoice at such an opportunity of getting his master completely in his power.
"You smile incredulously, John," said Mr. Torrens; "and yet I take heaven to witness——"
"It's orkard, sir—very orkard," observed Jeffreys; "and may be it'll lead to scragging, if the stiff'un isn't put away."
Mr. Torrens shuddered from head to foot.
"What do you mean to do, sir?" asked Jeffreys. "I am quite ready to assist you; but it's getting on for two o'clock——"
"Yes, I know it," interrupted Mr. Torrens. "I am mad—I am driven to desperation! What would you advise? But will you be faithful? Will you keep the secret? I can reward you——"
"We'll talk of that another time, sir," said Jeffreys; "for the present let's think of making away with the stiff'un. We must bury it. Stay here a moment, sir, while I go and get the stable lanthorn and a sack."
"Or rather," observed Mr. Torrens, "I will fetch some water to wash the carpet; fortunately, the blood has not trickled upon the sofa."
Noiselessly the two crept away from the parlour—one to the stables, the other to the kitchen.
In a few minutes they met again by the side of the corpse, which they thrust into the sack; and between them the load was conveyed to the stable.