He must be gone to dispose of the body. As I hope for mercy, I speak the truth!— let him deny it if he can. The danger or difficulty of an exploit never appalled him. Wood, however, made known his presence to the individual by laying his hand upon his shoulder. At the first glance, he imagined he must have stumbled upon a museum of rarities, there were so many glass-cases, so many open cabinets, ranged against the walls; but the next convinced him that if Jonathan was a virtuoso, his tastes did not run in the ordinary channels. Had he been sick in the mind when he had done this damnable thing? It did not seem possible, for he could recall clearly all he had said and done; there were no blank spaces to give him one straw of excuse. I don’t think I shall ever care for this bonnet again.
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