How or why you killed him...' 'I never laid a hand on him,' protested Morris.

'This is what I have dreaded all along.

But think, Michael! I'm not that kind of man; with all my faults, I wouldn't touch a hair of anybody's head, and it was all dead loss to me.

He got killed in that vile accident.' Suddenly Michael was seized by mirth so prolonged and excessive that his companions supposed beyond a doubt his reason had deserted him.

Again and again he struggled to compose himself, and again and again laughter overwhelmed him like a tide.