"A sorry jest, and ill-timed," said Urso. "Shall I see him?"
"Content thee—thou shalt."
"I thank thee," replied Urso. "In return, I will tell thee how Captain Hodgkins perished. Though I hated him as a bloodthirsty and wicked malignant, I did not compass his destruction. One evening, about dusk, he was staggering along the bank of the Severn, raging and roaring from strong drink, when he fell into the river."
"Wretch! you pushed him in," said Vosper, sternly.
"No," rejoined Urso. "It happened as I have said. I was standing by, and could have saved him had I stretched out my hand. But I hated him, and let him drown. Ah! I shall never forget his agonised, imploring looks, for the cold water had sobered him. I can see him now," he added, covering his eyes, as if to exclude some terrible object.
"With such a crime on thy conscience, no wonder thou canst not sleep soundly," said Vosper, regarding him with mingled pity and abhorrence.
"Thou sayst truly," rejoined the wretched man. "Since that night I have not been able to lay me down in peace. But I shall soon sleep the quiet and unbroken sleep of death."
"Hast thou aught more to tell me?" asked Vosper, after a pause.
"Ay, I will tell thee of another matter, though I feel no remorse for it," rejoined Urso. "Not many days ago I laid an ambush for thy king on one of the Malvern Hills, which he was foolish enough to ascend in company with Major Careless, whom I bitterly hate. Had I captured Charles Stuart, as I hoped to do, I should not be a prisoner here; and, better than all, I should have been avenged of Careless."
"I heard of his majesty's providential escape," said Vosper. "But I knew not that thou wert the contriver of the ambuscade."