"Well, Betsy, you agreed to make Mrs Forster believe that Mr Spinney was
dead; but we little thought that such would really be the case."

"Lord love you, sir! why, you don't say so?"

"I do, indeed, Betsy; but mind, we must keep it a secret for the
present, until we can get Mrs Forster out of the way. How is she this
morning?"

"Oh, very stiff, and very cross, sir."

"I'll go up to her," replied Ramsden; "but recollect, Betsy, that you do
not mention it to a soul;" and Ramsden ascended the stairs.

"Well, Mrs Forster, how do you feel this morning? do you think you could
get up?"

"Get up, Mr Ramsden! not to save my soul--I can't even turn on my side."

"Very sorry to hear it, indeed," replied the surgeon; "I was in hopes
that you might have been able to bear a journey."

"Bear a journey, Mr Ramsden! why bear a journey?"

"I am sorry to inform you that Mr Spinney's gone--poor old man! There
must be a coroner's inquest. Now, it would be as well if you were not to
be found, for the verdict will be 'Wilful Murder.'"

"O dear! O dear!" exclaimed Mrs Forster, jumping out of her bed with