I think I can guess the nature of your secret; but even if you went to my father, he would tell you, that you are not bound to criminate yourself." The Prophet, in the mean time, had made an effort to recover himself, which, after a little time, was successful.
"I believe you think," he added, with a gloomy and a bitter smile, "that it was I who committed the murdher; oh no! if it was, I wouldn't be apt to hang myself, I think.

No! but I must see your father, as a magistrate; an' I must make the disclosure to him.

The man that did murdher Sullivan is livin', and that man is Condy Dalton.

I knew of this, an' for two-an'-twenty years let that murdherer escape, an' that is what made me so miserable an' unhappy.

I can prove what I say; an' I know the very spot where he buried Sullivan's body, an' where it's lyin' to this very day." "In that case, then," replied the other, "you have only one course to pursue, and that is, to bring Dalton to justice." "I know it," returned the Prophet; "but still I feel that it's a hard case to be the means of hangin' a fellow-crature; but of the two choices, rather than bear any longer what I have suffered an' am still sufferin', I think it betther to prosecute him." "Then go in and see my father at once about it, and a devilish difficult card you'll have to play with him; for my part, I think he is mad ever since Jemmy Branigan left him.