visit him again on the night of the tenth of October, and force him to terms.  He concluded by saying, that he had every reason to believe that the intended visit had taken place at the very time that the murder was committed.  He spoke of his cousin with much feeling, and tried to excuse his conduct, as being the result of his father’s ill-treatment and neglect; and he commented upon Anthony’s solitary habits, and sullen uncommunicative disposition, as having been fostered by these unfortunate circumstances.

His evidence was given in so frank and manly a way, and he seemed to sympathize so deeply in his cousin’s unfortunate position, that he created quite a sensation among his listeners.  No one imagined him to be in any way implicated in the crime.

The statement of William Mathews corroborated all that had been advanced by Godfrey Hurdlestone.  He related his accidental meeting with Mr. Anthony Hurdlestone on his way to the miser’s cottage, but he omitted the conversation that passed between them; only stating, that he observed the muzzle of a pistol protruding from the pocket of the prisoner—­a circumstance which, knowing the peaceable habits of the prisoner, astonished him at the time.

Long before Mathews had concluded his deposition, there remained not a doubt on the minds of the jury that Anthony Hurdlestone was the murderer.  Even Captain Whitmore, who had greatly interested himself on behalf of the young man, believed him guilty.

One witness still remained unheard, and Anthony still clung to hope; still anxiously anticipated that the evidence of Frederic Wildegrave would go far to save him.  Alas! how great was his disappointment, when the circumstances related by his friend were more conclusive of his guilt than all the false statements that had been made by his enemies.  His own letter, too, which was read in court, alone would have condemned him in the opinion of all unprejudiced men.

“October 10th, 1790.

“My Dear Frederic,

“I am certain that I have forfeited your good opinion, by omitting to send you the money you left in my keeping:  I have forfeited my own.  How shall I find words to tell you the dreadful truth, that the money is no longer in my possession; that, in a moment of excitement, I gave the deposit entrusted to my care to another?

“Yet listen to me for a few painful moments, before you condemn me utterly.  My cousin Godfrey came to me in great distress; he implored me to save him from ruin, by obtaining for him a temporary loan, for a few hours, of four hundred pounds, which he faithfully promised to replace the following day.  Hurried away by my feelings, I imprudently granted his request, and gave him the money you left with me.  Do not wholly despise me, Frederic; he looked so like my poor uncle, I knew not how to deny him.

“This morning brought your letter.  You ask for the money to be sent to you immediately.