"Brand!--where have you been?"
"Don't touch me, sir! I'll go--don't touch me! There ha' been hunnerds
after me--latin me on t' fells. They've not catcht me--an' they'd not ha'
catcht me noo--but I'm wore oot. I ha' been followin yo' this half-hour,
Muster Boden. I could ha' put yo' i' the river fasst enoof."
A ghastly chuckle in the darkness. Boden considered.
"Well, now--are you going to give yourself up? You see--I can do nothing
to force you! But if you take my advice, you'll go quietly with me, to
the police--you'll make a clean breast of it."
"Will they hang me, Muster Boden?"
"I don't think so," said Boden slowly. "What made you do it?"
"I'd planned it for months--I've follered owd Melrose many times--I've
been close oop to 'im--when he had noa noshun whativver. I might ha'
killt him--a doosen times over. He wor a devil--an' I paid him oot! I was
creepin' round t' hoose that night--and ov a suddent, there was a door
openin', an' a light. It seemed to be God sayin', 'Theer's a way, mon!
go in, and do't! So I went in. An' I saw Muster Faversham coom oot--an'
Dixon. An' I knew that he wor there--alone--the owd fox!--an' I
waited--an' oot he came. I shot 'un straight, Muster Boden! I shot 'un
straight!"
"You never told any one what you were going to do, Brand? Nobody helped
you?"
"Not a soul! I'm not yo'r blabbin' sort! But now I'm done--I'm clemmed!"
And he tottered against the bridge as he spoke. Baden caught him.
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