This move maddened the penniless spendthrift.  It drove him to desperation.  He resolved to get possession of his money by foul means since he could not do so by fair ones; by violence, if not by peace.  Circumstances had brought him to acquaintance with a pair of desperate thieves and burglars.

He sought them out, tempted them by the prospect of great booty for themselves, and arranged with them the whole plan of the robbery of Lone, stipulating that there should be no bloodshed at all; but that if the burglars were discovered before completing the robbery, they should seek rather to make their escape than to secure their booty.

But who can unchain a devil and say to him, “Thus far, no farther shalt thou go?” The instigator of the crime had no power over his instruments; on the contrary, they had power over him from the moment he called in their aid and became their confederate.

John Scott continued his confession by relating that he took the men down to Lone, disguised as countrymen, and led them to the castle grounds, where, lost in the great crowd that came to see the preparations for the wedding festivities, their presence as strangers was unnoticed; that at night he drugged the drink of the valet, stole the pass-key from his pocket, and through the secret passage under Malcolm’s Tower he admitted the thieves into the castle, and by means of the valet’s key passed them into Sir Lemuel Levison’s bedroom.

He shuddered, failed, and seemed about to faint, as he recalled the horrible tragedy enacted in the room that night.

The duke gave him another small glass of brandy before he could revive and continue.

“Heaven knows, though under strong temptation, not to say under imperative necessity, I employed thieves and burglars, I was neither a robber nor a murderer in intention.  I wanted to get my own money, withheld from me against my expressed desire—­that was all.  I do not say this to extenuate my crime, but to let you know the exact truth.  I cannot dwell upon this part of the dreadful tale.  You know already that the thieves murdered Sir Lemuel Levison in his chamber.  It seems that he had not gone to bed, but had fallen asleep in his chair.  He woke and discovered them.  He was instantly about to give the alarm, when he was knocked senseless by Smith and killed by Murdockson.  From the moment that I heard the old man was dead, although I had not intended the awful crime, I knew that I had actually occasioned it, and that the curse of Cain was upon my head!  I have not had a happy moment since.  I fled the country, and stayed abroad until I heard that my wretched companion, Rose, was in trouble.  Then I returned in disguise to see what was to become of her, resolved to give myself up to justice, if it should be necessary to vindicate her.  But I found, by cautious inquiry, that she had been admitted as crown’s evidence on the trial of the valet Potts, who was discharged from custody, on a verdict of ‘Not Proven,’ but that she was in prison again, on the charge of perjury, for having sworn—­what she truly believed, by the way, poor wench—­that the confederate of the thieves who murdered Sir Lemuel Levison was no other than the young Marquis of Arondelle.  You were there, sir, and immediately proved an alibi?”