an infinite deal of pleasure." I inserted a chisel, and giving it a few
slight taps with a hammer, the top of the box flew suddenly off, and at
the same instant, there sprang up into a sitting position, directly facing
the host, the bruised, bloody, and nearly putrid corpse of the murdered
Mr. Shuttleworthy himself. It gazed for a few seconds, fixedly and
sorrowfully, with its decaying and lack-lustre eyes, full into the
countenance of Mr. Goodfellow; uttered slowly, but clearly and
impressively, the words -- "Thou art the man!" and then, falling over the
side of the chest as if thoroughly satisfied, stretched out its limbs
quiveringly upon the table.

The scene that ensued is altogether beyond description. The rush for the
doors and windows was terrific, and many of the most robust men in the
room fainted outright through sheer horror. But after the first wild,
shrieking burst of affright, all eyes were directed to Mr. Goodfellow. If
I live a thousand years, I can never forget the more than mortal agony
which was depicted in that ghastly face of his, so lately rubicund with
triumph and wine. For several minutes he sat rigidly as a statue of
marble; his eyes seeming, in the intense vacancy of their gaze, to be
turned inward and absorbed in the contemplation of his own miserable,
murderous soul. At length their expression appeared to flash suddenly out
into the external world, when, with a quick leap, he sprang from his
chair, and falling heavily with his head and shoulders upon the table, and
in contact with the corpse, poured out rapidly and vehemently a detailed
confession of the hideous crime for which Mr. Pennifeather was then
imprisoned and doomed to die.

What he recounted was in substance this: -- He followed his victim to the
vicinity of the pool; there shot his horse with a pistol; despatched its
rider with the butt end; possessed himself of the pocket-book, and,