"Indeed, I thought nothing could possibly be more clear."
"Clear to you, Mr. Todd, it may be, but not to any one else; but that don't matter a bit as you are here yourself to point out the exact spot. Are we near it now?"
"Yes, you see that cluster of bushes?"
"Yes, oh yes."
"Well, the money lies hidden right in there, and you cannot miss it if you scramble in."
"Lend me the stick to clear away the brambles and the nettles, and I will creep in."
"My dear friend, I shall fall down if I lend you the stick. There is no difficulty in getting in. Don't you see there is a gap that you have only to push through, and there you are?"
"Well—well," said Lupin. "That's enough; I will get through. Come on, let us secure the gold."
Lupin stooped to push his way through the gap in the hedge, for the bushes grew so close together just there, that they resembled an enclosure carefully planted on purpose. Then Todd took the heavy stick that had been cut from the sycamore tree in both hands, and swinging it in the air, he brought it down with a stunning crack on the back of Lupin's head, just at the juncture of the neck.
"God!" said Lupin, and it was the first time in his life that, with true sincerity, he had pronounced that sacred name. He then turned and sunk to the ground, with his face towards Todd. He could not speak now, but the look that he gave to his murderer was awful in the extreme. The injury he had received had quite paralysed him, and his hands hung helplessly. But the quality of mercy belonged not to Todd's composition.