"The nurse up at Paul's house say as 'ow he hasn't slept for three nights, and he's acted fair and strange, too. I wonder if there's onything in his mind?"

"I never thowt," said another, "as 'ow they would have ever hanged him when it coom to be known that Paul's feyther was a judge. I wonder 'ow it'll turn out."

And so they gossiped. Even in the public-houses a kind of solemn awe was present. No jokes were pa.s.sed, even among those who were drunken.

It seemed as though the Angel of Death were hovering over the town in which Paul had lived for so many years.

When midnight came, a messenger went from Brunclough Lane to Dr.

Wilson's house. It was a neighbour of Mrs. Dodson's, who had been aroused from his sleep, and who had been requested to fetch the doctor, as her daughter was worse.

There was a communication by means of a tube between the front door and the doctor's bedroom.

"Hallo, Dr. White!"

"Yes, who are you?"

"I'm Amos Gregson. I come fro' Mrs. Dodson. She says as 'ow Emily's worse, and you must come at once."

"Very well; I'll be on in a few minutes."

The doctor might not have retired at all, for he was out in the street fully dressed a very few seconds after the man had left. With long, rapid strides he made his way to Paul's house, which stood in the near distance, and from one of the windows of which a light was burning. He knocked at the door, which was opened by Judge Bolitho.

"I told you to wait," he said. "I knew the crisis would come to-night."

"Has she sent for you?" asked the judge hoa.r.s.ely.

"Yes, the man left my door not ten minutes ago. You have Crashawe with you?"

"Yes; he's been with me all the evening, and he's now lying on the sofa asleep."

"Come, then."

A few seconds later three men left the house and made their way rapidly towards Brunclough Lane. Presently they stopped at the door of number twenty-seven and knocked. It was immediately opened by a neighbour, who looked suspiciously at Dr. White's two companions.

"Mrs. Dodson is up in th' room," she said.

"And Emily?" said the doctor.

"She says she mun see you."

"Remain here," said Dr. White to the others, and went straight upstairs. Evidently he had been there many times, and knew his way perfectly.

He entered a room which was lit by a cheap, common lamp, and which threw a sickly light upon the bed. A girl lay there who must have been extremely beautiful when in health; even although the hand of death was upon her now, she gave evidence of that beauty. Her eyes were coal-black, her face was a perfect oval, and every feature was striking and handsome. Her hair was raven-black and lay in great waving tresses upon the pillow.

When the doctor entered, she looked towards him eagerly.

"Mother," she said, "go out!" for her mother sat by the bedside.

"Why mun I go, Emily?"

"I want to tell th' doctor something," she said.

"And why may I not hear it? I suppose I can guess, can't I?"

The woman spoke angrily even then.

"Don't thee be white-livered, Emily, or say owt for which you'll be sorry afterwards."

The doctor noted the look on the girl's face. Even then there was something strong and defiant about her. She had a Juno-like appearance which would have attracted notice anywhere, and her firm, square chin denoted a nature which could withstand almost any opposition.

"Go, mother," she said; and the woman sullenly left the room.

"Doctor," said the girl, and although the death dews were even then upon her forehead and she spoke between sobbing gasps of breath, there was a kind of defiance in her tone. "Doctor, you've been trying for days to wheedle summat out of me--you know you have."

The doctor did not speak.

"While I thought I was going to live," went on the girl, "I would say nowt. Nay, if the king on his throne and all the judges and juries in the land were to try and drag from me what I'm going to say I wouldn't have said it. Ay, but I'm afear'd to die, doctor! Am I going to die?"

"Yes, you're going to die, Emily."

"How long can I live?"

"Perhaps a few hours, perhaps not so long."

For some seconds the girl lay silently. Even yet she seemed to be fighting some great battle.

"Mrs. Cronkshaw was up here a little while ago, and she said as 'ow Paul Stepaside was to be hanged to-morrow morning. Is that true?"

"Yes, that is what I've heard," said the doctor.

"Ay; you've tried to get out of me if I know summat about it," said the girl. "Ay; but you've tried hard, doctor!" and there was almost a triumphant tone in her voice. "But have I said a word? Nay, not a word! While I thought I should live I wouldn't speak for onybody. And you've believed I knowed summat about it."

"And I was right," said the doctor, "wasn't I?"

"You're sure, now?" and the girl's tone was almost angry. "You're sure I can't live?"

"You can live but a few hours, Emily."

"And can onybody do owt to me if I tell you summat now?"

"No; no one can do anything."

"Weel, then, look 'ere--I killed Ned Wilson!"

Although Dr. White expected this, the words made him shudder.

"I've ne'er said a word to onybody," went on the girl. "I believe my mother guessed, but she's noan one to talk, is mother. Besides, I've been very poorly. But I've ne'er said a word to onybody, although I could see by yar questions that you thought I knowed summat about it.

I'm going to tell you everything now. I don't want Mr. Paul Stepaside to die when it can do no good. If I were going to live, I'd ha' let him die, no matter what happened; but now---- It wur like this 'ere----"