"It's over now, it is." Ralph drew out of his pocket the paper that had fallen from his father's breast.
"Is this what you mean ?" he said, handing it to Sim.
Sim carried it to the light to read it.

Returning to where Ralph sat, he cried in a shrill voice,-- "Then he _had_ come back to do it.

O God, why should it be murder to kill a scoundrel ?" "Did you know nothing of this until now ?" "Nothing.

Wilson threatened it, as I say; he told me he'd hang you on the nearest gibbet, he did--you who'd saved his life--leastways, so they say--the barren-hearted monster!" "It's ill-luck to serve a bad man, Sim.

Well ?" "I never quite thought he'd do it; no, I never did quite think it.