Do you see that vagabond lying under the tree, that's Ben Burnley." "Ah!" said Bartley, "the ruffian Hope discharged." "The same, and a man that is burning to be revenged on him: _he's_ your luck, Mr.Bartley; I know the man, and what he has done in a mine before to-day." Then he drew near to Bartley's ear, and hissed into it these fearful words: "Send him down the mine, promise him five hundred pounds--if William Hope--never comes up again--and William Hope never will." Bartley drew back aghast.

"Assassination!" he cried, and by a generous impulse of horror he half fled from the tempter; but Monckton followed him up and laid his hand upon his shoulder.
"Hush," said he, "you are getting too near that window; and it is open.
Let me see there's nobody inside." He looked in.

There was nobody.

Grace was upstairs, but it did so happen that she came into the room soon after.
"Nothing of the kind.Accident.Accidents will happen in mines, and talking of luck, this mine was declared dangerous this very day." "No, no," groaned Bartley, trembling in every limb, "it's a horrible crime; I dare not risk it." "It is but a risk.

The alternative is certain.