"Aye, that would do; that would do well. And I could do it, too, when I
was half-drunk."

Was that the devil, chuckling joyous to himself across the bog? No,
only an innocent little snipe, getting merry over the change of
weather, bleating to his companions as though breeding time were come
round again.

Crowd close, little snipes, among the cup-moss and wolf's-foot, for he
who stalks past you over the midnight moor, meditates a foul and
treacherous murder in his heart.

Yes, it had come to that, and so quickly. He would get this man Lee,
who held his life in his hand, and was driving him on from crime to
crime, to meet him alone on the moor if he could, and shoot him. What
surety had he that Lee would leave him in peace after this next
extortion? none but his word,--the word of a villain like that. He
knew what his own word was worth; what wonder if he set a small value
on Lee's? He might be hung as it was; he would be hung for something.
Taw Steps was a wild place, and none were likely to miss either Lee or
his friend. It would be supposed they had tramped off as they came.
There could be no proof against him, none whatever. No one had ever
seen them together. They must both go. Well, two men were no worse than
one. Hatherleigh had killed four men with his own hand at Waterloo, and
they gave him a medal for it. They were likely honest fellows enough,
not such scoundrels as these two.

So arguing confusedly with himself, only one thing certain in his mind,
that he was committed to the perpetration of this crime, and that the
time for drawing back was passed long ago, he walked rapidly onwards