“What event?”

“The marriage, sir—­you and the lady.  She is worth all the trouble she has given us.”

“You fool,” roared Meadows, “we are not married.  The wedding is to be this day week!” Crawley started and gasped, “We are ruined, we are undone!”

“Hold your bawling,” cried Meadows, fiercely, “and let me think.”  He buried his face in his hands; when he removed them, he was gloomy but self-possessed.  “They are not in England, Crawley, or we should have seen them.  They are on the road.  You sailed faster than they; passed them at night, perhaps.  They will soon be here.  My own heart tells me they will be here before Monday.  Well, I will beat them still.  I will be married Thursday next.”  The iron man then turned to Crawley, and sternly demanded how he had let the man slip.

Crawley related all, and as he told his tale the tone of Meadows altered.  He no longer doubted the zeal of his hireling.  He laid his hand on his brow and more than once he groaned and muttered half-articulate expressions of repugnance.  At the conclusion he said moodily:  “Crawley, you have served me well—­too well!  All the women upon earth were not worth a murder, and we have been on the brink of several.  You went beyond your instructions.”

“No, I did not,” replied Crawley; “I have got them in my pocket.  I will read them to you.  See! there is no discretion allowed me.  I was to bribe them to rob.”

“Where do I countenance the use of deadly weapons?”

“Where is there a word against deadly weapons?” asked Crawley, sharply.  “Be just to me, sir,” he added in a more whining tone.  “You know you are a man that must and will be obeyed.  You sent me to Australia to do a certain thing, and you would have flung me to perdition if I had stuck at anything to do it.  Well, sir, I tried skill without force—­look here,” and he placed a small substance like white sugar on the table.

“What is that?”

“Put that in a man’s glass he will never taste it, and in half an hour he will sleep you might take the clothes off his back.  Three of us watched months and months for a chance, but it was no go; those two were teetotal or next door it.”

“I wish I had never sent you out.”

“Why,” replied Crawley, “there is no harm done, no blood has been spilled except on our own side.  George Fielding is coming home all right.  Give him up the lady, and he will never know you were his enemy.”

“What!” cried Meadows, “wade through all these crimes for nothing?  Lie and feign, and intercept letters, and rob and all but assassinate—–­and fail?  Wade in crime up to my middle, and then wade back again without the prize!  Do you see this pistol? it has two barrels; if she and I are ever parted it shall be this way—­I’ll send her to heaven with one barrel, and myself to hell with the other.”

There was a dead silence!  Crawley returned to their old relation, and was cowed by the natural ascendency of the greater spirit.