So said the newspapers next day; and thus ended the career of a
heartless ruffian, it is true, but who had ever sought to make him
otherwise?

To proceed with our tale. Day was now fast breaking; and as the cortege
moved away with their prisoner, two horsemen appeared on the cliffs
above, and dismounting, watched the party with eager but disappointed
looks. They were the old seaman and Edward Barnett, the village
landlady's eccentric nephew.

'A plague upon my awkward riding,' said the seaman, 'we are too late!
They have taken him, and that rascal too with him! Fool that he was to
place any confidence in such a hound.'

'He had been kind to Tom's mother,' said Edward, 'and he supposed that
gratitude.'

'Bah!' said the sailor; 'when you have buffeted as many of the storms of
life as I have, you will learn that gratitude is rarely found on
earth--least of all in such a brutified nature as that fellow's. But why
do I blame him? He was but what the law made him. Punished for a venial
fault--sent to herd with hardened malefactors, is it wonderful that he
should become schooled in crime? And now the law will punish the
criminal it made. We can do no good here--we had best proceed to Erith.
I have much to say to you, and much to do. But fear not; Hunter shall
not perish without an effort, even if I tear him from the gallows.' So
saying, he remounted, and the two slowly pursued their way towards
Erith.