I remained perfectly still, with a terrible composure, crouched in my hiding-place, my teeth clenched, and prepared to struggle like a tigress for my life when discovered.  I thought his next measure would be to light a match.  I saw a lantern, I fancied, on the window-sill.  But this was not his plan.  He stole, in a groping way, which seemed strange to me, who could distinguish objects in this light, to the side of my bed, the exact position of which he evidently knew; he stooped over it.  Madame was breathing in the deep respiration of heavy sleep.  Suddenly but softly he laid, as it seemed to me, his left hand over her face, and nearly at the same instant there came a scrunching blow; an unnatural shriek, beginning small and swelling for two or three seconds into a yell such as are imagined in haunted houses, accompanied by a convulsive sound, as of the motion of running, and the arms drumming on the bed; and then another blow—­and with a horrid gasp he recoiled a step or two, and stood perfectly still.  I heard a horrible tremor quivering through the joints and curtains of the bedstead—­the convulsions of the murdered woman.  It was a dreadful sound, like the shaking of a tree and rustling of leaves.  Then once more he steps to the side of the bed, and I heard another of those horrid blows—­and silence—­and another—­and more silence—­and the diabolical surgery was ended.  For a few seconds, I think, I was on the point of fainting; but a gentle stir outside the door, close to my ear, startled me, and proved that there had been a watcher posted outside.  There was a little tapping at the door.

‘Who’s that?’ whispered Dudley, hoarsely.

‘A friend,’ answered a sweet voice.

And a key was introduced, the door quickly unlocked, and Uncle Silas entered.  I saw that frail, tall, white figure, the venerable silver locks that resembled those upon the honoured head of John Wesley, and his thin white hand, the back of which hung so close to my face that I feared to breathe.  I could see his fingers twitching nervously.  The smell of perfumes and of ether entered the room with him.

Dudley was trembling now like a man in an ague-fit.

‘Look what you made me do!’ he said, maniacally.

‘Steady, sir!’ said the old man, close beside me.

‘Yes, you damned old murderer!  I’ve a mind to do for you.’

’There, Dudley, like a dear boy, don’t give way; it’s done.  Right or wrong, we can’t help it.  You must be quiet,’ said the old man, with a stern gentleness.

Dudley groaned.

‘Whoever advised it, you’re a gainer, Dudley,’ said Uncle Silas.

Then there was a pause.

‘I hope that was not heard,’ said Uncle Silas.

Dudley walked to the window and stood there.

’Come, Dudley, you and Hawkes must use expedition.  You know you must get that out of the way.’

’I’ve done too much.  I won’t do nout; I’ll not touch it.  I wish my hand was off first; I wish I was a soger.  Do as ye like, you an’ Hawkes.  I won’t go nigh it; damn ye both—­and that!’ and he hurled the hammer with all his force upon the floor.