“You’ll get nothing of that,” said Rody; “it was Nell here, not you, who took it.”

“One hundred of it on the nail, this minnit,” said the man, “or I bid you farewell, an’ then look to yourselves.”

“It’s not mine,” said Rody; “if Nell shares it, I have no objection.”

“I’d give the villain the price of a rope first,” she replied.

“Then I am off,” said the fellow, “an’ you’ll curse your conduct.”

Nell flew between him and the door, and in his struggle to get out, she grasped at the dagger, but failed in securing it.  Rody advanced to separate them, as did Nanse, but the fellow by a strong effort attempted to free himself.  The three were now upon him, and would have easily succeeded in preventing his escape had it not occurred to him that by one blow he might secure the whole sum.  This was instantly directed at Rody, by a back thrust, for he stood behind him.  By the rapid change of their positions, however, the breast of Nell M’Collum received the stab that was designed for another.

A short violent shriek followed, as she staggered back and fell.

“Staunch the blood,” she exclaimed, “staunch the blood, an’ there may be a chance of life yet.”

The man threw the dagger down, and was in the act of rushing out, when the door opened, and a posse of constables entered the house.  Nell’s face became at once ghastly and horror-stricken, for she found that the blood could not be staunched, and that, in fact, eternity was about to open upon her.

“Secure him!” said Nell, pointing to her murderer, “secure him, an’ send quick for Lamh Laudher More.  God’s hand is in what has happened!  Ay, I raised the blow for him, an’ God has sent it to my own heart.  Send, too,” she added, “for the Dead Boxer’s wife, an’ if you expect heaven, be quick.”

On receiving Nell’s message the old man, his son, wife, and one or two other friends, immediately hurried to the scene of death, where they arrived a few minutes after the Dead Boxer’s wife.

Nell lay in dreadful agony; her face was now a bluish yellow, her eye-brows were bent, and her eyes getting dead and vacant.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, “Andy Hart!  Andy Hart! it was the black hour you brought me from the right way.  I was innocent till I met you, an’ well thought of; but what was I ever since? an’ what am I now?”

“You never met me,” said the red-haired stranger, “till within the last fortnight.”

“What do you mean, you unfortunate man?” asked Rody.

“Andy Hart is my name,” said the man, “although I didn’t go by it for some years.”

“Andy Hart!” said Nell, raising herself with a violent jerk, and screaming, “Andy Hart!  Andy Hart! stand over before me.  Andy Hart!  It is his father’s voice.  Oh God!  Strip his breast there, an’ see if there’s a blood-mark on the left side.”

“I’m beginnin’ to fear something dreadful,” said the criminal, trembling, and getting as pale as death; “there is—­there is a blood-mark on the very spot she mentions—­see here.”