"You follow this man, Dr. Lascelles?" said Sir Christopher, turning towards the physician.
"Word for word," was the reply.
"Go on, then," exclaimed the knight.
"We opened the front-door in a jiffey, your worship, and without making any noise," continued Splint; "and we went into the parlour. Josh Pedler secured the notes and gold; and I held my clasp-knife close to the throat of the gentleman sleeping on the sofa."
"Did you know who he was?" demanded the knight.
"Not a bit of it, your worship. We took him for Mr. Torrens, as a matter of course," continued the Snammer. "Josh Pedler went to ransack the side-board, and upset a sugar-basin, or some such thing in the drawer. The gentleman awoke, and was just on the point of crying out, when I drew the clasp-knife across his throat."
"Merciful goodness!" exclaimed Sir Christopher, shuddering from head to foot, and glancing uneasily around him.
"Shocking! shocking!" said the doctor, with unfeigned emotion.
"The very knife that I did it with was in my pocket," observed Tim the Snammer, "when we was made prisoners and brought here."
The stranger, who had remained silent for some time, now rose from his seat, and took from the mantel the fatal weapon, which he laid upon the table before Sir Christopher, saying, "This is collateral evidence of the truth of the deposition now made."