’Then he might come home in a coach.  But he was a close-fisted fellow and loved a shilling; so it was probable he would walk.  His usual path was by the Star Fort, and through the thorn woods between that and the Magazine.  So I met him.  I said I was for town, and asked him how he had fared in his business; and turned with him, walking slowly as though to hear.  I had that loaded whalebone in my pocket, and my sword, but no pistol.  It was not the place for firearms; the noise would have made an alarm.  So I turned sharp upon him and felled him.  He knew by an intuition what was about to happen, for as the blow fell he yelled “murder.”  That d——­d fellow, Nutter, in the wood at our right, scarce a hundred yards away, halloed in answer.  I had but time to strike him two blows on the top of his head that might have killed an ox.  I felt the metal sink at the second in his skull, and would have pinked him through with my sword, but the fellow was close on me, and I thought I knew the voice for Nutter’s.  I stole through the bushes swiftly, and got along into the hollow under the Magazine, and thence on.

’There was a slight fog upon the park, and I met no one.  I got across the park-wall, over the quarry, and so down by the stream at Coyles, and on to the road near my house.  No one was in sight, so I walked down to Chapelizod to show myself.  Near the village tree I met Dr. Toole.  I asked him if Nutter was in the club, and he said no—­nor at home, he believed, for his boy had seen him more than half-an-hour ago leave his hall door, dressed for the road.

’So I made as if disappointed, and turned back again, assured that Nutter was the man.  I was not easy, for I could not be sure that Sturk was dead.  Had I been allowed a second or two more, I’d have made sure work of it.  Still I was nearly sure.  I could not go back now and finish the business.  I could not say whether he lay there any longer, and if he did, how many men Nutter might have about him by this time.  So, Sir, the cast was made, I could not mend it, and must abide my fortune be it good or ill.

’Not a servant saw me go out or return.  I came in quietly, and went into my bed-room and lighted a candle.  ’Twas a blunder, a blot, but a thousand to one it was not hit.  I washed my hands.  There was some blood on the whalebone, and on my fingers.  I rolled the loaded whalebone up in a red handkerchief, and locked it into my chest of drawers, designing to destroy it, which I did, so soon as the servants were in bed; and then I felt a chill and a slight shiver;—­’twas only that I was an older man.  I was cool enough, but a strain on the mind was more to me then than twenty years before.  So I drank a dram, and I heard a noise outside my window.  ’Twas then that stupid dog, Cluffe, saw me, as he swears.