"Houseman! yes. He knew my poor--, I mean he knew Clarke; he said Clarke
was in his debt when he left the town so suddenly."

The old man shook his head mysteriously, and looked round. "I will tell
you," said he, laying his hand on Walter's arm, and speaking in his ear--
"I would not accuse any one wrongfully, but I have my doubts that
Houseman murdered him."

"Great God!" murmured Walter, clinging to a post for support. "Go on--
heed me not--heed me not--for mercy's sake go on."

"Nay, I know nothing certain--nothing certain, believe me," said the old
man, shocked at the effect his words had produced: "it may be better than
I think for, and my reasons are not very strong, but you shall hear them.

"Mr. Clarke, you know, came to this town to receive a legacy--you know
the particulars."

Walter impatiently nodded assent.

"Well, though he seemed in poor health, he was a lively careless man, who
liked any company who would sit and tell stories, and drink o'nights; not
a silly man exactly, but a weak one. Now of all the idle persons of this
town, Richard Houseman was the most inclined to this way of life. He had
been a soldier--had wandered a good deal about the world--was a bold,
talking, reckless fellow--of a character thoroughly profligate; and there
were many stories afloat about him, though none were clearly made out. In
short, he was suspected of having occasionally taken to the high road;
and a stranger who stopped once at my little inn, assured me privately,
that though he could not positively swear to his person, he felt