He had not taken many turns here, before he heard the sound of feet approaching from Bridge Street. The passenger was advancing along the side that he had just quitted, and as he drew near, he perceived it was a gentleman. There was something about the air and carriage of the new comer that struck him, and he retired into the shade to observe. A slight cough and a "hem!" confirmed his suspicions; he had heard that voice too recently to be deceived. —"It's Simpson himself!" said he. "He's going to Olliphant's about the deed, I'll be sworn!" and he stepped lightly after him to observe his movements. "He'll drop the letter in the box and return," thought he—"and, now, if fortune favours me—" and he grasped more firmly a stout stick with a thick knob at the end of it, that he held in his hand—"One good blow, and a heave over the parapet, and I'm at once revenged and safe!"
In the mean time, the unconscious Mr. Simpson proceeded on his way. He too was deep in thought, looking neither to the right nor the left, till the sound of a feeble moan from a child, followed by a groan from a more mature voice, attracted his attention, and looking back he perceived the mournful group whose proxi-
