The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 377: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

360 REYNOLDS’ WORKS and who now presented it to Mr. Hawkshaw, “‘ this has just been found in the river.” | But scarcely had he thus spoken, when another labourer came rushing toward the spot, carrying in his hand some- thing which appeared to be a bundle of clothes tied around with a cord; but the package was covered with mud, and the water was dripping out of it. ‘ Here,’’ exclaimed the individual who carried it, ‘‘ I have just this moment fished this out of the Trent!’ and he also bounded toward Mr. Hawkshaw, who had reined in his horse to hear what the other men had to say. He took the pistol, and examined it attentively. It was covered with rust, and the barrels were completely stopped up with mud, so that at the first glance it was not easy to ascertain any particulars as to the precise workmanship of the weapon. But as Hawkshaw turned it over and over in his hands, a strange and horrible suspicion gradually arose in his mind. He examined it still more closely; he drew forth his kerchief and cleansed away the dirt as well as he was able. The suspicion was strengthened. A deep gloom, blended with horror and dismay, appeared upon his countenance. Still he was unwilling to suffer that suspicion . to arise into a positive conviction; he hoped to God that it might be all an error on his part. He essayed to decipher the maker’s name, but the steel on which it was engraved was too completely encrusted with rust to enable him to make it out. He rubbed away with his handkerchief, but all to no purpose. ‘There can be no doubt, my good fellows,’ he said, at — length breaking silence, “‘ that this is the weapon which caused the death of those two unfortunate women whose mysterious murder created such a sensation in this neighbour- hood the year before last. As a magistrate, I will keep pos- session of the fatal weapon for the present. But what have you there?’ he added, turning to the man who had brought the packet. “Tt is a bundle of clothes, sir,’”’ was the response. “ Open them,” said Mr. Hawkshaw, “ and let us see what they are,’’ and still his countenance expressed mingled horror and consternation. The labouring man placed the bundle on the grass, and, kneeling down, cut the cord which held it together. First CONNIE DOO KS (E(0)