'Mr. Glossin, for God's sake come away!'

'He'll hardly do that without help,' said Hatteraick.

'What are you chattering there for, Mac-Guffog?' called out the
captain from below.

'Come away, for God's sake, Mr. Glossin!' repeated the turnkey.

At this moment the jailor made his appearance with a light. Great
was his surprise, and even horror, to observe Glossin's body lying
doubled across the iron bar, in a posture that excluded all idea
of his being alive. Hatteraick was quietly stretched upon his
pallet within a yard of his victim. On lifting Glossin it was
found he had been dead for some hours. His body bore uncommon
marks of violence. The spine where it joins the skull had received
severe injury by his first fall. There were distinct marks of
strangulation about the throat, which corresponded with the
blackened state of his face. The head was turned backward over the
shoulder, as if the neck had been wrung round with desperate
violence. So that it would seem that his inveterate antagonist had
fixed a fatal gripe upon the wretch's throat, and never quitted it
while life lasted. The lantern, crushed and broken to pieces, lay
beneath the body.

Mac-Morlan was in the town, and came instantly to examine the
corpse. 'What brought Glossin here?' he said to Hatteraick.

'The devil!' answered the ruffian.